Rules of Love
by Yokoku21
Summary: Basically, this Celia-  Carlos and Kiara's-  daughters' love story. I'm not going to write much, just that it's basically Rules of Attraction, 2nd Generation, hence the crapola title; enjoy!
1. First Impressions

Celia

The first thing I am greeted to as I swing open the door and sit myself onto the couch, is a scary looking dude, with a shag cut, piercings and tattoos, wearing ripped up jeans and a black t-shirt with a skeleton on it...sitting next to me.

The only thing I can come up with is, "are you supposed to be the grim reaper, or something?"

The guy raises a pierced eyebrow, the right side of his mouth quirking up, and flicks me the finger.

So, now I'm completely stunned.

It's almost a relief when my father walks in through the living room door, takes one look at us, and plonks himself in between us protectively.

"So dad," I manage, "is this the guy grandpa was talking about?"

_Come on dad. Say no. Please, please, please say no!_

My dad looks slightly awkward, as if he's gonna be sick, or something. "Why don't we all come into the kitchen, _amante_. Your mom and sisters are in there, with grandpa and grandma."

I stand up, immediately and let out a sigh, as I walk into the kitchen, my dad and the grim reaper trailing behind me. As I swing open the door, the smell of freshly baked double-chocolate chip cookies greets me.

"Hi honey. How was school?" Mom asks. Her long, light brown hair is pulled into a pony-tail, and she's wearing her usual (big t-shirt, sweats and boots).

"Fine." I say, exchanging hugs with grandpa and grandma. My younger sisters, Estelle and Maria are sitting on the counter eating the cookies. I snag one for myself then turn to face dad, careful not to look into the eyes of the reaper.

"So. What's up?"

Dad looks at mom. Mom at dad. I hate when they do that. It's like they're communicating with each other telepathically.

Funnily enough, it's grandpa who answers my question, though.

"Celia, Maria, Estelle. This is Dylan Henderson." He pats the reaper on the shoulder. "He'll be staying with you guys for a few months, as a sort of reform programme. I think It's best for anyone to have a second chance, which is what we'll be offering Dylan. You girls can make friends, get to know him. Especially you Celia." I look up, startled. "You two are around about the same age, yes?"

I shrug, looking down again. My dad looks as if grandpa has slugged him one. Which is weird, 'cause they usually get along.

Mom comes around the counter and puts a hand on my shoulder, reassuringly. "I'm sure Celia and Dylan will become good friends." Then she looks straight at the reaper, which I admire, a bit. "Maybe Maria could show you her doll collection?"

The reaper smirks, insolently. "Sure. I'd love to. And then, maybe afterwards, I could go shopping with Barbie over there," he points his chin at me, "and we could exchange phone numbers and talk all day and all night!"

No one calls me Barbie and gets away with it.

I hear my dad intake a breath and let it out in a hiss. "_¡mierda!"_

Mom gives dad a 'look' which shuts him up. "Carlos, come on. You were the same way his age. Give him a chance."

Dad rolls his eyes. "Fine. But one misstep, and he's out of my house, understand _niño?"_

Reaper just rolls his eyes back.

Dad sucks in a deep breath and shakes his head. "I'm gonna go check up on the car. Kiara, you stayin'?"

Mom nods. Dad leaves the room, kissing me and my sisters' heads on the way out, absently. He stops when he gets to mom, looks in her eyes, intently and kisses her on the forehead. Then, giving grandma and grandpa a quick hug goodbye, he's gone.

After a small pause, mom smiles at the reaper. "So. You want me to show you your room, Dylan? You can freshen up and for dinner."

I can't imagine this dude ever looking 'freshened up', but the reaper just shrugs. Mom takes this as a yes and leads the way out.

With a quick, disturbing glance at me he's gone, following mom out. I'm left with grandma, granddad and my two sisters.

"This is going to be fun." I say to no one in particular, and then plonk down on the counter seat and reach for another cookie.


	2. Interruptions

**Hi, again. Um...I've updated. This is in Dylan's POV which is how ROA is, and I wanted to keep it like that, just bacause a) It brings an incy bit of justice (not much!) to the book and 2) Dylan sounds reeeeally cool!**

**Also, thanks for the reviews. There're not many, but they seriously mean alot to me. So thankyou ;) Love you guys sooooo much! 3**

**Disclaimer: Seriously, it's kind of obvious but I am not Simone Elkeles, nor are her books mine in any way. **

Dylan

After Mrs. Fuentes has finished showing me the various rooms in her house, I decide to take a shower. A long one.

I step inside the unit adjoining to my own 'bedroom' (ahem, hellhole), strip off into my b-day suit, and switch on the shower, turning the heat right up and letting the water pour over me.

What the fuck is wrong with my life that I've ended up here? It was supposed to go great; hell, it was supposed to go better than great.

I tried to avoid it, but I ended up on the streets, anyway. And It was no one else's fucking up...it was mine. Rich, right?

I slam my fist against the cold shower wall, and lean my head against it, trying to shake the memories of them...of _her _out of my mind. But it won't go. I contemplate banging my head against the wall one last time, just to see if I pass out, but I'm interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Dylan. It's dinner time," A girl calls out from the side of the door. I jump up, knock my head against the shower head, swear, and then respond.

"Uh, yeah, coming."

"Good. Mom says you're on vegetable duty. You're cool with that, right?" The girl hollers. I recognize her voice, she's the one who called me the grim reaper. The cute one. What was her name again? Cecile? Kelley? Yeah, that's it. It's Kelley.

"Uh, yeah, sure Kelley." I reply, wishing she'd just walk away. She doesn't.

"Huh?" She says.

I sigh. "I said, yeah sure, Kelley."

Kelley clears her throat, the sound slightly muffled over the sounds of the showed. "Uh...it's Celia, actually."

I wince. Oh, yeah. Now I remember. Celia Fuentes. The first time I'd seen her, I had thought I knew her from somewhere. School. Normally, I hang out with the gangs and hardcore groups. I guess I never noticed Celia before.

"Oh. Sorry." What else am I supposed to say?

I hear her stomp away as I turn off the shower. I'm not sorry that I offended her. Everyone makes mistakes. Hell, I make mistakes more than the average person, anyway. Why the fuck should I care if I've hurt her feelings?

By the time I'm dressed, I smell chicken roast.

I traipse downstairs, inhaling the aroma the whole way. Man, whoever is cooking that chicken, it is _good._

I can see Mrs. Fuentes, standing by the table with her two young daughters. One is about fourteen, and the other about sevenish. Maria and Estelle, I think. I don't know which is which, though, and I as sure as hell am not gonna ask. This family is sensitive about names and I'm not good with 'em anyway.

Mrs. F greets me, as soon as I'm down. "Hi, Dylan. I know Celia told you that you're on vegetable duty, but since you're new here, I decided to let you off the hook for a couple of days. Just so you can get used to the atmosphere here."

Wow. I'm touched Mrs. F. How fucking generous.

I hear a grunt from the kitchen. It's obviously her husband. The old man hates me, it's clear on his face. That's okay, though. I'm used to people shunning on me with one look. I wonder if he can read my mind.

"Daddy's making chicken!" The littlest daughter exclaims.

"Yes,Maria honey." Mrs. F says to her. Then she looks up at me...I'm a head taller than her. "Why don't you go sit down at the table, Dylan? We've actually got the rest of the family coming over. Carlos's big brother, Alex, his wife and three kids. They're about your age. And my parents, too. You should get used to the family."

Oh great. More of 'em.

I don't say this, just nod and sit down at the long table. It looks as if two big tables have been hurriedly pulled together to create one huge super massive, uber huge one. Somehow it's funny to me and I start to snicker, but shut up as Celia walks into the room and shoots me a glare.

Later on, the rest of the family come over. The two grandparents, I've seen. Mr. Westford, a man with thinning hair and a big white moustache, and Mrs. Westford, a handsome old lady who was probably hot, back in her time- the eighteen hundreds or something.

Mr. Fuentes's brother comes soon after, halfway through our dinner, apologizing about the delay. He looks like he works out, and he has tattoos all over his body, like mine. Hard ass. Just like his brother.

His wife is blonde and..._damn. _I stop short, 'cause even though she's forty or so, she's still got it going on! She has long blonde hair, which stops at her waist in sexy curls, and her skin is creamy and smooth. She doesn't look a day over thirty. Fuck, I'll be her toy boy any day.

Celia sneaks a look at me and rolls her eyes. I clamp my mouth shut. Seriously, are all the Fuente's mind readers or something?

Carlos's elder brother, Alex has two sons, twins, around my age, a little older. Paco and Jay. Their daughter looks about seventeen- Isabel. She's pretty, with blonde hair, a little darker than her mom's and golden skin. I grin at her, and she grins back, her blue eyes twinkling with mischeif. That girl looks like fun. And what I want, I get. Always.

Oh yeah.

The rest of the dinner drags on forever, and I'm sneaking glances at Isabel. Her eyes smile back at me, through her eyelashes. No one notices, but I see Celia sneak a glance at me once or twice. Man, what's her problem?

Finally dinner finishes (Mr. Fuentes may be an annoyingly scary motherfucker, but damn can he _cook_) and the adults sit on the long comfy couch sipping wine and chatting. Paco and Jay are chatting to Celia, teasing her and her little sisters like big brothers do.

I'm standing there, watching Celia joke around with her cousins, her face softening, making her normally uptight stance loosen, so she looks much prettier. Hell, maybe even beautiful.

But then she shoots me another glare, and I immediately take everything back. I'm about to charge up to her and demand what her fucking problem is, when someone taps me on the shoulder. Isabel.

"Hey," she says, her voice soft, "you wanna go upstairs? Cut off from the crowd? You look like someone I would like to get to know."

I raise an eyebrow down at her, and smirk in that infuriating way girls like.

"Sure." I say, because I can't think of anything cool or witty. I continue to smirk though.

It seems she doesn't care either way, 'cause the next thing I know she's leading me out of the room. The adult's backs are turned and they don't notice a thing, and Celia is busy with her siblings and cousins. Not that I care.

Isabel leads the way and I'm guessing that's the way the rest of the night's gonna go. And for someone that said she wanted to get to know me, she's not making much of an effort, unless the exploration of my mouth counts.

So I'm pressed up against the wall and Isabel's hands are roaming my body. I decide I like in and do a little roaming myself, up her top, stroking her stomach. She moans against my lips and I feel a creeping sense of satisfaction. Her legs wrap around my waist, and suddenly _she's _pressed against the wall and I'm leading now, which is how it always ends up. Her groans are turning me on, and thought of Celia are almost gone from my mind.

Wait...where did Celia come from? Was I thinking of her?

After a few minutes, we're at third base and I'm unclipping a bra. Yes, I'm an expert, I'm proud to say.

"Isa what _are _you doing?" A voice interrupts our make out session and we break away to face a stunned looking Celia. And behind her is her father, looking like the King of all things pissed off.

Oh crap. They really are fucking mind readers.


	3. Reamed out!

**Third chapter! **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Perfect chemistry OR Rules of Attraction.**

Celia

Stunned. I'm stunned. Shocked, gobsmacked, dumbfounded..._fucking flabbergasted._

And then the shock drains away, and I'm just angry. Angry as hell. And judging by the look on dads face, so is he.

"What is the meanin' of all this?" he demands, his eyes narrowing. Danger zone. I can't help but smirk.

Isabel blinks, her big blue eyes wide. She bites her lip and I can't help but think of aunt Brittany when she does that. Truth is, Isa's not a slut or a whore. She's just...adventurous. And being beautiful is an advantage to that type of nature. And I know I shouldn't blame her, or be mad, but I can't help the fire that rises in me, at having seen her in his arms.

Why the hell do I care? Stupid emotions.

"Uncle Carlos! We were just..." Isa trails off pathetically.

"Just what, Isa? Kissing? God, _no puedo creer que se le besar, Isa; tienen algunas nomas!" _dad splutters. Isa and I can both understand what he's saying perfectly but Dylan is staring at dad with a look that is half confused and half annoyed.

"Just 'cause I'm living is your house doesn't mean I have to follow your rules." Dylan says to him, his chin raising, arrogantly. His blonde hair which was gelled into spikes is now mussed, hanging over one green eye. Wow. Green eyes? I never noticed the color of his eyes before. Or how his skin is pale, paler than mine, unblemished and looks soft to the touch. I hadn't even realized the color of his hair, too busy mad at him or trying to avoid him.

Dad raises his eyebrows, and I can tell he's remembering the day's when he was a gang member. Sometimes it shows in him, in his actions, moves and words. It's hard to think of my father as anyone but my father, but I know who he used to be. Dangerous and feared. The bad boy with the 'tude. Just like Dylan.

Is that why dad hates him so much?

"_Chaval,_ rules are the reason we're here right now_?" _

Dylan sneers. "Didn't you hear the memo that was out or were things different back in the fifteen hundred-era when you were a teen? Rules are always meant to be broken."

"Not in this house. And if you ever lay a hand on my niece again, you'll pay big time _comprendes?"_

"_Comprendo amigo." _Dylan smirks. Then, without even looking back, he storms out of the room.

Isa looks up at dad, worriedly, biting her red, swollen lip. Anger surges through me; Dylan did that to her. "Um…uncle Carlos, you won't tell dad, Paco or Jay about this will you?"

Dad looks down at his niece, and sighs wearily, pinching the top of his nose. "Just go, Isa."

Isabel nods, her perfect teeth still worrying her perfect lip. Then she, too, leaves the room.

Dad sighs again, and turns away wordlessly, facing the door. I sense his tiredness, it's circling him like an aura. I walk behind him and touch his shoulder.

"Don't worry, daddy. He'll leave soon." I say, hoping beyond hope that 'soon' would just some _come _already.

Dad shakes his head and turns towards me with a smile. He ruffles my hair, a sadness in playing in his eyes. One I can't seem to understand. "I know _querida. _I know…I'm just wonderin' exactly how many people'll be affected in the worst of ways before he does leave."

And before I can ask him anything else, he's gone.

* * *

**_no puedo creer que se le besar, Isa; tienen algunas nomas- _I can't believe you were kissing him, Isa; have you NO standards?**

**Thanks xxx**


	4. School

**Update! It's not very good though!**

**Sorry it took so long, I had GCSE revision, what with school and stuff (in the USA that's equivelant to SAT's...I think. Yeah...I'm english!)**

**Thanks...! Try not to get too bored...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Perfect chemistry OR Rules of attraction.**

Dylan

My eyes open to a brightly lit room and a black blur.

"Dylan! Wake up!" The blur screams, right next to my ear. Is it God?

"Huh?" I murmur. "God. I wanna sleep some more, God, go away."

"What the hell, Dylan? Wake up! It's time for school, and moms making breakfast. Is eggs okay for you?"

Oh. It's Celia. I get up immediately, ignoring the head rush compensating for it, but am pushed back by the weight settling on my midsection. My eyes focus as I rub them. Celia is sitting- no straddling- my midsection, her short, black hair framing her face and her eyeliner bringing out the hazel spots in her brown eyes.

Huh. She looks good. I shake my head, quickly, and grunt something along the lines of, "yeah, sure."

Celia nods her head, and swings herself off me, quickly. Cold air rushes to me, and I try not to think about how warm she felt on top of me. Well, I _am _a male.

"Well hurry up, 'cause school's starting in half an hour." She says, turning around and walking away. Before she leaves I hear her make a sound that sounds suspiciously like a snort and say, "God!"

Fuck. How many times do I have to embarrass myself in front of this girl. Not that I care, or anything, but...

I swing out of bed and walk into the bathroom. After a quick shower, I towel out my hair and slip on comfortable jeans and a t-shirt (careful not to catch my lip ring). Then I slips downstairs to see all three Fuentes girls sitting on the dining table.

"Hey, Dylan." Mrs. F says, propping a plate of eggs on the table near the smallest daughter. "Sit. Have some eggs."

Mr. F narrows his eyes and turns away, his coffee cup clutched in his hand. I guess I'm not forgiven for last night.

Everything seems to pass in a blur after that, breakfast, and the next thing I know, I'm sitting in the passenger seat of the car with Celia driving. She's staring straight ahead, and I take a deep breath to calm myself.

"So." I say, "is your school...uh...good, then?" Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Celia is still staring straight ahead, "yeah," she answers.

I nod, complacently. Man this is so fuckin' awkward!

We continue in silence, Celia obviously seething, and me, staring down at my nails and slipping my tongue inside my lip-ring and twisting it right round.

By the time we arrive, I'm practically praying for release from the car. I slip out and stare at my new temporary school. It's a big, grey building with a huge banner saying- _Welcome to Flatiron High: home to the Panthers!_

Celia leads me into the building, followed by hordes of kids all ranging from fifteen to eighteen.

"Your first lesson is English Lit, room 103, in the South facing building. If you want, I can walk you there." Celia says over the chatter of my temporary peers. I raise an eyebrow at her switching on to full jerk mode, 'cause I feel like it.

"Really? Sure you can handle walking the _whole_ way? Sure you won't have a mental breakdown or something, being in my presence for too long?"

Celia rolls her eyes at me, her hands going to her hips. Her full, curvy, delicious hips.

I shake my head, like a dog shaking his head after taking a plunge at the deep end. Where the hell had that crap come from all of a sudden.

"Fine then. Good luck." She says, and turns swiftly on her heel and walks away.

It takes all my effort not to watch her leave.


	5. Cafeteria troubles

**Okay, I know this is going reeeeeally slow right now, but I hope to get it quicker in pace and action (and romance!) soon. You gotta have a foundation first, though, I guess, no matter how slow and boring. **

**So yeah!**

**Also, sorry, there are long pauses between chaps, but I have homework and stuff, too. I'm only 14! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Simone Elkeles's work.**

Celia

School seems to drag on forever. I mean it. Not a single break all day. By lunchtime, I'm practically praying for the last bell to ring. When it does, I rush out of the classroom so fast, I swear I get whiplash.

"You alright, Cel?" My best friend, Ada walks up beside me, her long brown bangs falling into her eyes so she has to blow them away with an annoyed blow. "I haven't seen you all day."

"It's 'cause she's busy entertaining the gang member who recently joined her family." My other friend, Callum skips up behind me, and gives me a playful tug on my ponytail. Too bad I'm not feeling that playful today.

"His names Dylan," I grumble, "and I'm not _entertaining _him!"

Ada grins at Callum, and Callum winks back at her, his brilliant blue eyes shining with mirth. "Aha! The lady doth protest!"

I roll my eyes, "stop being such a _cabron, _Callum."

"Ah ah ah, not the Spanish!" Callum groans. I suppress a grin.

"Let me just stop by my locker and then we can go to the cafeteria." I say.

By the time we reach the cafe, it is filled with people. We hunt down our favourite table, in the corner next to a couple more friends of ours and I take out my lunch. My _abuela's _infamous enchiladas.

"Oh My God, your grandma's enchiladas!" Ada squeals, and grabs one for herself. I smile at her amused as she bites into it and then lets out a moan that causes a couple of heads to turn and brows to rise.

"So," Callum says, taking a bite of his cucumber, pausing and then dipping it into my enchilada curry. I reach to swat his hand away, but he's already popping the cucumber into his mouth with a grin. "Seriously, now. Tell us about the Gangbanger."

I raise an eyebrow, "isn't that...like, an orgy?"

Sammy, my bio partner- and friend- stops her conversation to glance at us, curiously. "Did someone say orgy?"

Ada rolls her eyes. "That's a gang _bang, _silly! And stop changing the topic!"

I sigh. "Fine, he's staying in our house for, like a month. My grandfather's into the greater good stuff, and there's this programme REACH. He wants Dylan to reform his ways, become good, that's all."

Callum wiggles his eyebrows. "Ooooh! You know his _name?"_

I sigh. "Shut it Callum."

Ada cranes her head, "talking of the devil..."

I turn around on my bench and see Dylan walking down the lunch isle talking to Danny Hendrew, the captain of the football team. He buys his lunch and then they walk to their table. The _popular_ one. The one with the cheerleaders sitting on it, chatting animatedly.

_Damn! _When did that happen?

As soon as Dylan sits down onto the table, the head cheerleader, Amanda Fruitt immediately stops talking and I swear to God I see her give him a once over. Despite having tattoos and piercings, I can see why she'd take a liking to him. I guess he is handsome.

"Um, Cel, your enchilada." I hear Callum say.

I look down to see my enchilada crushed in my fist, the chicken and curry inside pooling over my fist.

I swear and grab a napkin, turning on my bench so I'm facing everyone. They're all silent, staring at me, as if I'm a nutcase. I guess I am, kinda.

"Sorry. It's slippery." I say.

Ada nods. "So is attraction, they say."

**Oh, and, i. .u.., I'll be needing some spanish help for the next update. I haven't forgotten you and I really appreciate your offer to help. I'm only on my 2nd year of spanish and I don't know much slang. I haven't forgotten you! :)**


	6. The plan

**Yup, next chapter.**

**Thanks for the reviews, they're awesome! Love them! **

**Also thanks for the translation, .bCuz.u..**

**I'm going to use the rest in my next chap, but I hope you don't mind me hunting you down ;)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Simone Elkeles's storyline or characters.**

Dylan

She's awfully quiet with me in the car. Too quiet.

"You, uh, okay?" I ask, scared of the answer.

She nods, looking straight ahead, though I notice the tightening of her knuckles on the steering wheel.

"So." I say, feeling like a fucking duffer. "School was cool, today, right."

Celia smiles. It's a scary smile, and I wouldn't be surprised if fangs started coming out from under those perfect pink lips. And _I'm _supposed to be the tough-as-nails gangbanger.

"Oh it was that," She agrees, her eyes staring at the road, focusing so hard, they cross, slightly. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself in the cafeteria today, huh?"

I admit, today was a good day. I felt like I really belonged, after two whole years of ditching. I was welcomed back with open arms by me home-boys. And not just the boys, too.

"Do you have a problem with that?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her. "That I have friends?"

She shakes her head, and lets out her breath in a huff. "I'm not. I don't _own _you."

I scoff, "I'm sure you'd like to think you do, huh?"

Celia glares at me, and then finds the nearest curb and pulls over. Then she climbs out of the car and leans against the railing overlooking huge-ass mountains. Her back, which is to me, is ramrod straight.

I roll my eyes and get out of the car, too, wondering, for a fleeting moment if driving off without her would get me kicked out onto the streets again. Probably. In fact, knowing what I know of her father, I'd get kicked out anyway.

That doesn't make me feel better.

I stand next to her, and turn to glare at her, "Your being stupid, emotional and complicated, you know that?"

I turns to face me, her own face hard as rock. "And you're a _pendejo, _so there."

I grin. "Don't use Spanish in front of me. I won't understand it. I'm only a _gringo, _after all."

She laughs, a short laugh, that softens all the hard planes of her face. The sun is still high in the sky, glinting off her bronze skin and making her eyes glitter like dark pearls. I'm left staring, and can't look away.

It takes me a minute to realise she's staring back at me, too.

"I was mad, because you were flirting with Amanda." She says. Then, her eyes widen and she turns away cheeks flaming.

I raise my eyebrows. "Are you jealous?"

_Please say yes. Say yes._

"No."

I sigh. "Sure?"

Celia looks at me, all the heat flooded from her cheeks. "Sure. I'd never fall for a guy like you."

I blink and look down at her. Then I step closer. "Oh yeah? Why?"

Her breath hitches as she steps closer, so our noses are only inches away and I can almost taste her warmth.

Her hand creeps up my chest, my cheek, my nose. I close my eyes, her touch doing fuckin' crazy things to my body. Shit, I'm acting like some thirteen year old virgin.

She fingers my lips ring. "Too many piercings." She whispers. "What if I kiss you and my tongue gets stuck in your lip ring?"

I look down at her with half lidded eyes. "Cool with me. Wanna test it out and see?"

Celia looks up at me, the amusement flooding out of her eyes. They're darkening infinitesimally.

"No. We're late. Come on." She says, turning away and slipping into her car.

The rest of the journey is silent, which is good, 'cause it gives me time to think. Was she really jealous of that Amanda chick? I can't see why. She's pretty but, that's about it with her.

But then again, maybe I could work with that. Jealousy _is _one of the best ways to get the girl.

By the time we arrive home, I'm smiling.


	7. Lateness

**Hi, sorry this one's so short, I promise that the next one will be longer...and they'll kiss, too!**

**Thanks for the reviews, they really make my dayy. I rely on them so much, so it's really great when I get an email of a review or a 'favourite author' or 'favourite story' message thingy.**

**Also, the title of the previous chapter, 'The Plan' is significant, and there will be alot of jealousy coming up between Dylan and Celia, 'cause that's my fav thing ever!**

**And thanks to (the person who helped me with my spanish, who's name I try and try to copy out and never comes on the stupid thing, because it's too long). Much appreciated- you have a stalker!**

**And now, I've rambled on and it's longer than the story ;)**

**Dislcaimer: Don't own PC of ROA.**

Celia

As soon as we get home, I spot dad. He's standing by the garage, leaning against the big white door, near the patio. The first thing he says to us when we get out of my car is, "You're late. _M__as vale que no anden juntos"_

I shake my head, fiercely. "No, it was nothing like that. The gas ran out so we had to pull out the emergency stash mom kept nagging me about. Remember?"

A triumphant laugh comes from the back of the garage and mom steps out of the back of the garden, wearing easy sweats, a long baggy top, huge boots for stomping and garden gloves. "Told you, you'd need them!" She grins, easily.

I turn to dad. "See? Mom knew I'd need them."

Mom walks to Dylan, and pats him on the shoulder. "Hey, Dylan. How was your day at school? Kids treat you well?"

Dad snorts and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the doors with a wicked smile. "And what kinda kids do you hang out with, anyway, Dylan? Goths? Druggies? Emo's?"

My mom whacks him over the head with one of the gardening gloves she pulled off.

Dylan shakes his head, and glares a my dad. "Old man, you know squat about my life, so stop with the fuckin' around."

Dad narrows his eyes. "No swearing, _cabron_. Or, I'll throw you out of my house." He turns to walk away, but stops short and turns to face Dylan. "Oh. And stay away from my daughter. You go to school and you come back. No more lateness, I won't be toleratin' it next time. If it happens again you're out."

And with that, he's gone.

Mom shakes her head after him and rolls her eyes. "It's alright Dylan. He's just exaggerating. Now, why don't you guys help me with the garden? I gotta get the weeds out."

Dylan shrugs and takes the shovel she hands out to him, heading towards the garden.

Mom stops me as I start to follow Dylan out, and says, "by the way, Uncle Alex and aunt Brittany are coming over. After this would you chop the vegetables and make some of your pecan nut sauce? You know how Paco and Jay love your sauce."

I nod, hoping beyond hope, mom doesn't see the sudden flash of panic mall my face for a second, there.

But as I'm following her out the back door to the garden, I can't squelch the growing dread of having her there in close proximity to Dylan.

**Again. Sorry about the abruptness...:)**


	8. The tester

**Hi, sorry it took some time to update. I've kinda started a new fanfiction on the Night Huntress books by Jaeniene Frost. So if you can, check it out! I live off reviews, y'know :)**

**Yes, they kiss in this one. This is kind of like a starter point in their kissing schedule, once they start, I won't make them stop. Whoo!**

**Thanls for the reviews and keep 'em coming. Like I said, I live off them.**

**This is for Random Miss Saranda Clearwater, just because she kept on asking for a long kissy one! I love Seth Clearwater too! You are not alone! EEE! :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Simone Elkeles's work. Poo.**

Dylan

We're all sitting on the dining table.

The adults are talking. Celia's aunt Brittany is chattering on about something with Mrs. Fuentes, Celia's mom, and Mr. Fuentes and the other Mr. Fuentes are talking, too.

But Celia isn't.

It's not my fault. I can't help but keep noticing her. My eyes keep travelling towards her face. I'm noticing shit that I've never noticed about her, in the short span of the few days I've been here.

Her face, her high cheekbones, her dark eyes framed with smoky black lashes. Her full pouty lips, the way she keeps biting her bottom lip every so often makes me want to try them out for a taster. Her small, compact body. She's slender, but not skinny. Nope. She's curvy. The kind of curvy fashion magazines seek out in models.

Don't ask me what brought this on...maybe it was the proximity we shared earlier on in the afternoon when she stopped her car, or maybe it was the way she was laughing with her friends in the cafeteria. Or maybe the way she keeps on looking at me now, sneaking odd glances at me under her eyelashes, thinking I can't see her...

"So, Dylan. What do you want to be when you're older?" Celia's uncle Alex asks me. His dark eyes are appraising me and I see a hint of intelligence lurking beneath 'em.

"Uh. I'm not really sure, actually. I guess I'm into cars but..."

"Cars?" Celia's mom, Mrs. Fuentes chimes in, her blue-gray eyes lighting up. "Why didn't you tell me you liked cars, Dylan?"

Mr. Fuentes rolls his eyes. "Kiara has a passion for vintage cars." When he looks at his wife, his eyes seem to soften. "It's her dirty little secret."

"That everyone knows." Mrs. Fuentes says. "Dylan, If you want, I could kindle your passion for cars. Do you like vintage?"

I raise my eyebrows and shrug. "Dunno. Any."

Truth is, vintage cars are my favourite. They're old, but their classy and before I got into the whole drugs thing, I was fanatic about fixing them. But that was then and this is now. And no matter what old Grandpa Westford thinks, I'm not gonna change who I am, 'cause that would mean becoming a sissy, someone I'm not.

Mrs. Fuentes doesn't seem disheartened by my vague answers. "Alex can teach you some things about cars."

Uncle Alex nods. "Yeah, I used to run an auto body shop. Cousin from Mexico taught me. If you want I could teach you a bit about 'em Dylan."

I nod and say thanks but I think we all know the day I start thinking about my future career in the day the seventh circle of hell warms up.

'Cause it's damn cold, there. I should know.

* * *

Finally dinner ends and Celia's sent into the kitchen, 'cause it's her turn to do the washing up. Inwardly I curse myself for not catching up with her beforehand and for not having the guts to walk up to her and say something...anything.

I decide to go into the kitchen, and stop acting like a friggin' baby, but I'm beat to the punch by Isa. I shake my head, pitying myself at the failed attempt, and turn to leave when I hear Celia's voice rise in anger.

"...What do you mean, Isa? Of course I don't!"

Isa's voice, "yes you do, Celia. Look, I know you think I'm out to get you-"

"-I know it," Celia murmurs angrily.

"But I'm trying to help you!" Isa sounds wary. I wonder what they're talking about.

"By kissing him?"

"Jealous. You're jealous, right?" Isa says. "Of course, you are. No, I know you are. You know why? 'Cause jealousy is the best way to get the guy!"

I can almost feel Celia roll her eyes. Are they talking about what I think they're...

"I don't like Dylan!"

Oh shit. Shitshitshitshitshit...

"Yes you do."

"No I don't"

"Do."

"Don't"

"Do."

"Don't."

"Don't"

"DO! Wait...oh...don't. Damn, Isa!"

I smother a laugh at that. I guess I'm not the only one Isabel Fuentes plays dirty with. Props to her.

"Ha!" Isa says triumphantly. Then her voice turns earnest again "Look, okay. Jokes aside you like him. I know. I'm an expert at these things. Forget science and maths, they don't control the matters of the heart!"

Celia growls and I hear a plate bounce off something in a noisy clang. "Well thanks for that. I'm done here, though. Plates-wise and talking."

"Celia wait-"

When Celia storms out of the kitchen, she almost misses me. I call out to her before she can walk away.

"What do you want?" She hisses, fingering her towel absently. Despite her harsh words and tone, her face looks worried, and slightly sad.

"Nothing, just..." I stop short when Isa comes out of the kitchen, and her jaw drops open at the sight of me.

"Were you eavesdropping?" She asks, her expression conveying her surprise.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. "Better things to do." I turn to Celia whose looking at me, right at me, and chewing on her bottom lip. Suddenly I know what I want to do and it doesn't involve talking. "Come with me."

I don't wait for an answer, just grab her hand- the one that isn't holding the towel- and pull her after me, leaving Isa in the shadows.

"Dylan, what the hell-"

"Just shut up and follow me." My voice is gruff. I know it's rash, what I'm about to do, but I want to try it and I don't give a fuck who objects, including Mr. Fuentes. If he has any qualms, he should have kicked me out before, and not just given me empty threats.

Besides, Celia doesn't care. It's a tester, right.

I open the door to my room and drag her in after me. Then I take the towel out of her hands, chuck it over my shoulder and press my body to hers.

"You ever kissed anyone, before?" I say, huskily. Celia looks up at me, completely shocked. Her soft warm body has gone completely still. Slowly she nods.

I lean in, and press my lips to her ear. "You ever kissed anyone and enjoyed it?" I rephrase.

"Uh...not really. The last time I, uh, kissed someone, our uh, braces...they, uh, got locked together and we had to have them un-clamped form," she gulps, "the dentist's office. Dylan, what...what are you...why?"

"Shh..." I whisper into her ear. "You know you want to try it out. This afternoon in the car. I could feel it."

She swallows, her breathing turning shallow. Her lids are half closed over her eyes.

"What...? I was serious about your lip ring, you know." She whispers.

My arms go around her waist and my lips trail down her neck. Celia lets out a whimper, one that completely turns me on, and her head tilts back against the wall, giving me better access to her sweet, warm skin.

"Just relax. This doesn't have to mean anything." I whisper.

My head comes up, and I look down at Celia. Her lashes are causing shadows over her cheekbones, her lips are parted and moist. It's like a fucking romance novel, but in those, the hero and heroine actually_ love_ each other.

I don't love Celia. And I never will.

And that's what I'm thinking when I bring my lips down over hers

**God I just read over this, and I'm making Dylan a real asshat! Damn!**

**Oh well...I love asshats...! Like Jace from the Mortal Instruments...hawt!**


	9. Sparks!

**Update!**

**Okay, why is it, that in one fanfiction, I have, like 21 reviews and in the other, there's, like NONE? ARF! INJUSTICE! Oh well, I'll just continue to write, because, although reviews really make my day, I write because I love it, and not because any one else does (even though it feels damn good when they do!)**

**On a cheerful, less crazy note, this is quite short and snappy, and I'm kinda wondering how many stories I can upload before fanfiction bans me...**

**Thanks and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it. Never will. Boohoo. Poor me. Yada yada...**

Celia

The minute his lips touched mine I felt hot sparks enter my skin and seep down my veins. I swear to God there were fireworks.

Now he's taking it slow, his soft, soft lips probing mine.

"Open your mouth," he whispers against my cheek. Then his lips come down over mine. I do as he says, leaning against the wall. My hands are clenching at the wall, my nails raking the hard white paint. It takes every pore of mine not to wrap my arms around his neck and jump on him.

His tongue probes my mouth, and I let out another moan.

Then, he pushes away from me, letting out a ragged breath.

"Shit." He breathes, running a hand through his thick blonde hair, and turning his head away.

I'm confused. "Wh-wh-what was that?"

Dylan looks at me, his green eyes ablaze with something, probably confusion or, God forbid anger.

But why should he be angry with me? I didn't do anything..._he_ kissed _me_!

"An experiment." He says, his voice way too calm, way too composed and _way _too annoyingly confident.

"Oh." I don't have anything to say. But I feel something akin to fire rise in me. Anger? I shouldn't be angry. I don't care what Dylan Sanders thinks of me. He's just a jerk. I shake my head, thinking of how stupid Isa is in thinking I actually like him. Sure he's a good kisser but...

"Celia?" A small voice comes from my door. "Celia, dad wants your help in cooking! What are you doin' in Dylan's room?" It's Maria.

I open the door and look down at her. She's standing at the doorway, her long curly dark hair trailing down her back and her big brown eyes looking up at me innocently.

"Nothing, we were talking. I'm right behind you, Mar." I say, absently. "See yah Dylan. Thanks for the...uh, experiment." I suddenly stop short and the angry fire flares up again. "But if you do it again, I'll call Paco, dad, Jay, uncle Alex, and uncle Luis, and make them witnesses while I beat you up, so I have a reason that viable. Gettit?"

I don't wait for Dylan's answer as I walk out the room and leave him on his own. I don't hear his answer over the roaring in my ears.

I try to ignore the feeling that, as I walk out of the room, a piece of me is left there with him, because I can guarantee that no good will come out of it, If I acknowledge it.


	10. Dates, confrontations, and rules

**Hi this one's longer.**

**Also, the writing may not be as good in this one. I'm not feeling so good and...**

**Oh damn, okay, I'm fine, the writing isn't good, because it isn't good! I might as well be straight!**

**I promise I'll do better next time, and I hope you're enjoying what I'm doing with Celia and Dylan ( I've somewhat corrected the name, Celia!)**

**Also, this is also the scene where Carlos confronts Dylan in the epilogue of ROA.**

**Thanks for the reviews, you guys are great, especially those of you who bother to go on and review most chapters. Thankyou guys, you're all awesome for reviewing and It makes me smile everytime I read your reviews!**

**So without much ado...**

**Disclaimer: Don't own ROA or PC.**

Dylan

It's been a week since I kissed Celia.

Right now, I'm standing in the lunch line. Amanda is saying something to me, I'm not sure what, something to do with cheerleading and how the coach should assign the girls on the squad, shorter pom skirts, because that would make it easier for her to jump and do her T and P formations.

Personally, I think she wants 'em so that she can show her thong to the audience, so I'm not objecting.

We walk towards the lunch table and sit down, Amanda still talking to me, a fruitless attempt to hook me in.

I can sense it, the moment Celia walks in the room. She's talking to her friend- Ava or Ada, something like that- her curled black hair, glossy under the pale lights, and her full lips stretched out in a smile.

I'm frozen for a second, because I remember what it was like to have those lips under mine, probing my mouth, her tongue slippery against mine, her soft warm body, in my arms.

"Dude. DUDE. Hello!" I blink and look at Danny Hendrew, his thick hand waving under my nose. "Are you even listening. You deaf or somethin'?"

I shake my head of the images and nod. "Yeah, sorry, man, what?"

Danny puts an arm around his girlfriend Macy and grins. "I said, we gotta par-tay goin' on this weekend. You in?"

I raise my eyebrows at Amanda, who's looking right at me, biting her cherry frosted lip, a fair eyebrow raised. "He doesn't have a date, Danny." She say's flicking her eyelashes.

I look right at her, putting on the full force of my attention on her. Girls can't resist that and this one, is no less than any other. Her lips part under my gaze.

"How do you know?" I ask her, making my voice go low.

"I know things." She says, flirtingly.

"Well, you're wrong. I got a date."

Amanda blinks, dumbfounded. And then her eyes narrow. "Who?"

"You." My voice is so sure and calm and confident, It's as if I've never been rejected before.

Amanda's face breaks into a huge smile and she squeals, catching the sight of many around her. She comes over to me and hugs me, choking the breath out of me.

"Oh, Dylan! Of course I'll go with you!" She breathes, as if I'm her Prince Charming and she's fuckin' Cinderella or something.

I look up and meet Celia's eyes. She's looking right at me. The moment my eyes catch hers, she turns away, like she's always done for the past week.

I sigh, and look away. I think it's time for a confrontation.

Of some sort...

* * *

We get home from school, and Celia is about to get out of the car when I stop her, grabbing her arm.

She shakes me off, irritably, but doesn't say anything.

I roll my eyes and grab her again, pulling her back down onto the seat before she can protest.

"What the hell...!"

I pull her onto my lap. Celia let's in a quick shallow breath and looks up, right at me.

"Let go. Now." Her voice is hard and angry, her dark eyes blazing like hot coals.

I ignore her and slip out from under her, transferring myself smoothly in the driver's seat, leaving Celia sitting in the passenger's seat, stunned.

"Dylan, what are you doing?" Celia asks, stunned.

I start the car and pull out.

Celia lets out an annoyed huff. "Stop it. Stop my car and pull back or I'll open the door and jump out."

I roll my eyes again and wordlessly lock the doors.

Celia's mad now. Seriously mad. I can tell she's trying to restrain herself, but her cheeks are slowly turning a ripe pink and her eyes are growing wider and hotter every second.

She turns her head away folds her arms, edging away from me as much as possible. I chuckle and watch as her shoulder's tense.

"Can't I treat you to a car ride? Even though you've been so cold to me, I care about you..."

She snorts.

"You know you love me, Celia."

After a few minutes of ignorance, she can't help but say something. Of course she can't, she's Celia Fuentes. "By the way, it's Cecilia to you. Not Celia. Celia is my affectionate nickname which you never really had a reign on."

I blink.

"O-kay." I say after a couple of seconds. "_Cecilia_. Well just so you know, my name isn't Dylan either."

Celia, looks over at me, an eyebrow raised.

"My name," I continue, "is actually Hetty Frances Burlington VIII, and only my friends call me Dylan, so technically..." I trail off, eyebrows wiggling.

Celia turns away again, but I catch the trace of a smile.

"It's all a big joke to you isn't it?" She mutters.

I turn onto the next lane, my eyes on the road. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The kiss." She swallows. "Me, feelings, life...it's just one big joke for you to play with, right?"

I swallow back a trail of defences which seem to want to pour out of me in one big torrid nightmare. She knows nothing about me. Nothing at all.

So I tell her that.

"You think you know everything about me? You know shit about my life, so don't pretend otherwise, Celia."

Celia narrows her eyes at me. "Don't call me that. And, I know enough about you to tell that you like

to play with girls. You did it with me."

I almost smile. "That was an experiment."

"An experiment on what! If sexual assault feels as good as the real deal! Bastard!

"That wasn't sexual assault," I growl back. "You were willing."

"Are you kidding, you practically forced yourself onto me." Celia exclaims.

I shake my head at her.

"Fine, whatever. Whatever it was, don't do it again."

Of course she doesn't want me to do it again, I'm just some rotten gangbanger who tried to force her in her opinion.

I could have sworn she was into it.

I turn to face her, still trying to keep my eyes on the road.

"You think you know everything about me? You have me pegged as some dirty gang member not even worth your time." It's not a question, it's a statement; the truth.

Celia shakes her head. "No. I have you pegged because of the way you act or seem to act." A pause, and then she blurts, "like how you can kiss me one day and then ask out Amanda Fruitt, the next."

I restrain a smile and turn my head back to the road.

"Why don't we head back home? It's been a nice ride, don'tcha think?"

She says nothing.

When we get back to the garage, Celia climbs out the car, quickly as if I'm gonna grab her and force her into the car again.

I don't. Just step out after her and then stop.

Mr. And Mrs. Fuentes are standing behind a car, talking. As soon as they see us, they stop. Mr. F whispers something into Mrs. F's ear and she elbows him.

"Where were you two?" Mr. Fuentes asks.

Neither of us answer.

Then Mr. Fuentes does something weird. He looks right at me, and smiles.

"Dylan, follow me, we need to have a man to man." He says.

_Oh shit._ I roll my eyes but follow the older man into his office.

When we get there, Mr. Fuentes gestures to the seat in front of him.

"You've been stayin' with us a week already, but I've been so busy at the shop I haven't been able to go over house rules."

I sit and- just to annoy the shit out of him- plop my beet on his desk, letting my boots, caked with dirt, rub his papers. Who the hell does he think he's fuckin' with when he says rules? The guys already hates my guts, and so does his eldest daughter. I might as well shoot myself and make them happy.

"Listen old man. I don't follow rules." I say, insolently.

Mr. Fuentes's eyes narrow and he pushes my feet off his desk. I grin up at him sardonically.

"_Uno, _no drugs or alcohol. _Dos _no profanity. I have three daughters and a wife, so keep it clean. _Tres, _curfew on weekdays is ten thirty; on weeknights it's midnight. _Cuatro, _you're expected to clean up after yourself around the house when asked, just like our own children. _Cinco, _there's no TV unless you're done with homework. _Seis._" He pauses. "Dating Cecilia is out of the question, so don't even think about it. Any questions."

Damn. What the hell was that? I mean..._damn._

I don't do rules.

"Yeah one." I say, leaning forwards and looking at the man straight in the eye. "What happens when I break one of your fuckin' rules?"

_Game on, dude._


	11. The dinner

**Update!**

**We kinda have a lot of things goin' on in this one, so try to keep up. An invitation to a PAR-TAY (yes, that is what Danny called it...a PAR-TAY), a dinner with one of our very favourite gay guys and a moment in the kitchen whilst our characters are washing up some very stubborn enchiladas.**

**Also, the reference to the muppets...I have a feeling they're only british, so sorry for that, Americans. I'm not all up to date on the USA side of things, though I try...I really do ;)**

**I also put in something about Dylan's family...they have a sort of bonding moment. Woo!**

**Hope you're enjoying the story so far and please continue to review. Love you all and thankyou for the awesome comments! :)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own PC or ROA...Simone Elkeles does.**

Celia

The first thing I see, when I come to school is Ada yelling hectically, waving a card around her head.

I'm almost knocked out when she charges into me, yelling. A few heads turn to watch us, and I feel my cheeks burn as she knocks me over causing me to crash right into the nearest locker.

"What?" I ask, cautiously, straightening. With Ada, I can never really tell.

"We're invited to Danny Hendrew's PAR-TAY!" She squeals and hugs me.

I look at the card in Ada's hand, wearily, wondering if it'll jump up and throttle me if I touch it. "You, uh, sure?"

Ada nods, excitedly, bobbing her head as if a jackhammer has been inserted into her neck. I shrug and take the card off her, opening it, slowly. Ada stands behind me, shaking with enthusiasm. She's like a electric humanoid.

The card is black with silver around the edges. The writing is messy in the middle, saying:_ 'Come to mah rockin' PAR-TAY it will be soogood! Keg fow everyone...'_

At the bottom left hand corner there is a crudely drawn picture of a drunk, tipsy blonde with a bottle of beer in one hand. She's only got half her bikini on- the bottom half.

I shudder and slap the card on Ada's chest.

Ada groans at me. "Come ooooon, spoilsport! Why do you have to be so...safe?"

I keep walking, trying to ignore her. Unfortunately she stops me by managing to grab the top of my tank top and pull the strap back, letting go, quickly so it whacks the top of my shoulder with a 'Thwack!'

"You're so desperate to go? Then go! I'm just not coming with you." I say.

Ada grabs my hands and kneels down in front of me, causing more stares to shoot out way. "Please! Pleasepleaseplease come! I can't go alone! It's _this_ Saturday. Come with me!"

"Take Callum with you."

"No! You have to come with, please!"

I look at Ada- whose been my best friend since primary school- her red ringlets framing her face, her blue eyes probing mine. She can be _so damn _persuasive when she wants to. I know that firsthand.

"Fine." I say, through gritted teeth.

Her squeal sends more heads turning towards us. But, by then, I'm used to it.

* * *

By the time we reach home, I'm sure to race out of the car before Mr. I'm-so-cool-and-cocky-and- awesome-with-my-sexy-smile-and-rings/tattoos-blonde-hair-and-killer-bod can say anything.

Yes, I'm avoiding him.

Inside the living room, dad is chopping tomatoes, while mom is sitting on the sofa flicking channels. Grandma and Granddad are sitting on the sofa, chatting. _Abuela_ is here.

I smile and kiss her on the cheek, turn to grandma and granddad and give them a huge hug.

"_Mijo, _how was your day?" Dad asks. "And where's the _pendejo?"_

Mom walks over to him and smacks him over the head. "Don't call him that!"

Dad grins and captures mom's hand in his own and brings it to his lips.

I roll my eyes. "He's coming."

At that moment, Dylan chooses to walk into the room. He stops the moment he sees dad, and then grins winking at him. Dad turns away with a narrow eyed glare, back to his chopping, which is more vigorous than before.

What happened there?

_Abuela _stands up, and extends her hand to Dylan. "Ah, you must be Dylan Sanders. Dick has told me much about you. You were in a gang?"

Trust _Abuela _to get to the point with a snap of her fingers.

Dylan nods. "Yes. And you must be Celia's grandma, another member of your huge, long winded family who means nothing to me."

_Abuela _laughs. "I will most definitely mean something to you, _hijo. _Especially when you try one of my enchiladas tonight."

Did Dylan actually _smile _or was that a trick of the light?

"Yeah," Mom nods. "Tonight we're having world famous enchiladas made in courtesy of uncle Tuck. Celia, hon, go call Maria and her friend for a snack. They're upstairs playing with her new roller skates. Call Estelle down, too."

I nod and go upstairs, hoping tonight won't be as hectic as the other time people came round. Unfortunately, I should know better.

* * *

By the time uncle Tuck and his partner Jake have come, everything is spick and span around the house. Mom has had us cleaning and bleaching and washing- me, Dylan, dad, Maria and Estelle are pretty sore.

_Abuela _has just finished with her enchiladas and we're all sitting on the big table (two tables pushed together!) as she brings them in.

We all start to talk. Dylan has somehow been shuffled over to sit next to me, and I can feel the friction every time his arm brushes mine.

"So, Dylan is it?" Uncle Tuck says, digging into an enchilada and talking around the mouthful. "Wassap, man? How's the Fuentes household treatin' you? Is Carlos a toughie? 'Cause if he is, just say the word and I'll loosen him up for you." He winks.

Dad rolls his eyes, and slaps Tuck on the back, amiably. "You try that, _pendejo, _and I'll skewer you with my various kitchen knives."

Everyone laughs, even Tuck.

I loosen up, thinking that things can't be so bad. By the time dinner is over, I'm so full of enchilada and curry, I'm grinning from ear to ear, enjoying dad and Uncle Tuck, banter like they always do and Josh and mom discuss the tragedies that the BP oil spill has to offer.

But when it's Dylan's time to do the dishes and mom sends me to help, I clam up immediately.

"Go on," she says, "help him with the big dishes, it's his first time."

I quit with the protests because when mom wants us to do something, she'll damn well get us on it. Meekly, I trod into the kitchen and walk silently beside Dylan, pick up a sud-filled sponge and begin to scrape off the dried tomatoes.

"Man," Dylan says. "Enchiladas are like fucking gondolas. Nice one the outside, but nasty underneath. What the hell is this!" He shows me the pot.

I ignore him, and scrape at the gunk, harder and faster.

"Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just let my imagination run off with me."

I ignore trying to scrape the bowl off with the useless sponge and settle for taking it off with my nail.

After a few moments of silence Dylan starts off again with the nattering. I feel like sticking the dirty wooden spoon lying next to me in his mouth just to shut him up.

"Your uncle Tuck's pretty awesome." He says. "Is he really your uncle?"

I shake my head.

"Come on, just talk to me- enough with the silent treatment, it's damn annoying!"

"That's the point." I murmur.

Dylan feigns a gasp. "Shock, horror! It speaks!"

I grab the dish towel and dry. "He's my mom's best friend."

Raised eyebrow. "You have a pretty big family, you know that?"

I raise an eyebrow back. "Why the hell wouldn't I? It's my family."

Dylan nods, slowly, and I see something spark in his mint green eyes. Something akin to sadness.

"It's not that big, you know." I say, cautiously. Why would Dylan be sad? He's so sure about himself, so positive and witty. Always...well, not happy, but satisfied. And maybe angry at times.

_But is he? _A voice at the back of my mind wonders. _You know nothing about his past. Nothing about him. Why he was a gangbanger, who his family were, where they are now..._

Do I even intend to find out? Do I care enough?

I'm not ready to answer that.

Dylan sighs, his blonde head sinking deeper down so he can scrutinize the pot he's cleaning so vigorously. "It's big to me."

I ask before my brain can tell me to shut the hell up. "So, what's up with, uh, your own family?"

Dylan pauses for a second...then shrugs. "What's up with them...?" His green eyes are wary, and thankfully not mad. I presumed it would be a touchy subject.

"Like, where are they?"

Dylan passes his bowl to me and I see his expression darken. "Gone. All of them."

I swallow and take the bowl, drying quickly. "Oh." My voice is so small and quiet and I can't fathom why. "Meaning...they passed away?" I ask, so slowly, I sound like a Muppet on the baby's channel.

Dylan nods. His face is controlled as if it's ready to break. Something pangs inside me, but I ignore it.

"I'm...so sorry." I say, because there's nothing else to say, really.

Dylan shrugs, and places the last of the wet clean bowls on to the side of the sink. The clang of the metal against more metal makes me wince. He comes up behind me, shifting slowly, so he can grab the dishtowel. But he doesn't move back.

"Don't be." He whispers, his breath ruffling strands of my hair and the back of my neck tingles. "It's not your fault."

I nod, and lower my eyes, drying a bowl.

"You already dried that one." Dylan murmurs into my ear. What the hell is he doing? And why is he doing it to me? Just to get a reaction? To calm himself down?

...To chase sadness away?

His arm snakes around my waist and pulls me back to him, and I almost comply...almost.

And then I remember the last kiss...and Amanda Fruitt.

So I do the last thing I want to do. I twist myself away from out of his arms and walk away. Even though my body is screaming for something else entirely.

* * *

**Next up is the PAR-TAY so stay tuned, until next time, folks ;)**

**Oh that was so lame...**


	12. PARTAY!

**Update!**

**I'm not going to write loads (as I always do), but this chapter is one of the longest I have ever written- or maybe it feels that way...**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Not Simone Elkeles...**

Dylan

"Wow."

That's the first thing Amanda says when I pick her up from her house (ahem! Mansion) on Saturday, seven pm, give or take a few minutes. Or hours.

Well, I don't want to seem _punctual._

"Wow, yourself." I grin back at the girl. She looks fuckin' fantastic. Her hot pink dress is short, brushing the tops of her thighs, and I have a feeling it's more of a shirt than an actual dress. Her hair is gelled back into one of those bumps on the top of her head and her make-up is caked on so heavily, she looks a bit extra terrestrial.

But a hot extra terrestrial, so I'm cool.

"Thanks." Amanda preens under my scrutinizing, and then raises her eyebrows at me. "You took off all your piercings, and combed your hair. Even more sexy than I thought!"

It's true. And I'm wearing fancy jeans and a white button down top with a blazer. I feel like a bit of a queer, but whatever...

I can't help but be reminded of a dog being observed by a potential seller when she looks me up and down. I grin at her and jut my lips out. "Not all my piercings." Truth is, I didn't want to take the lip ring out. It's...well, it's _me._

Amanda smiles and leans in, pressing her mouth on mine. I stand there for a second, letting her wrap her arms around me, and then pull away.

"You're no fun." She pouts.

I raise an eyebrow, and drawl, "never claimed to be. Let's get to Danny's house, we're already late." I say, as I lead her to my motorbike.

Amanda hesitates, and then shrugs, climbing on the bike. As she does that, I realise that she's not wearing any underwear under her dress. Her crotch is in full view.

I don't really know what I'm supposed to do, except climb on the motorbike and ignore the sickening sensation which hit approximately the moment I caught a sight of her...ahem...private area.

But as I drive, I start to worry- not about the fact that Amanda Fruitt's crotch is in full view- but the fact that it makes me nauseous that it is.

By the time we arrive at Danny Hendrew's equally huge mansion, there are about fifty cars outside on the long patch of grass in front of the place.

I park beside a silver mini, which looks to be about a thousand and fifty bucks, minimum and start to walk.

Amanda clip-clops towards me, and links my arm in hers. She's wearing heels, so high, she can't even walk properly in them. She's whispering something incomprehensible in my ear, and I'm ignoring her, my gaze fixated on the Hendrew's huge house.

The property costs more than me and my family would have cost, combined and doubled.

_Fucking hell._

I walk into the parlour-type hallway, practically dragging Amanda along with me, and am greeted to the sight of about a hundred people in the hallway already. Rows of people chatting, in skimpy clothes, carrying keg adorns the walls. Not all of them are people from school. Some look old enough to be in their forties.

Amanda immediately takes charge, grabbing my hand and dragging me forwards, until we're at the pool. "This is the pool." She says, demonstrating with her hands. I wonder if she thinks I'm retarded.

I nod and say, "yeah. I know."

Amanda smiles sweetly and then all of a sudden, she's on top of me, her lips taking hold of mine, and her hands roaming my back. I'm a little confused by the turn of events, but don't complain. Her arms squeeze my biceps and trail down my arms.

When I pull away for air, I catch sight of _her_.

Her black hair is curled and pulled up in a knot at the top of her head, revealing her long slender neck. Her eyes are sparkling like jewels- I can see them from here. Topaz.

Her full lips are curved in a smile and her dress is short and black, with skimpy straps which criss-cross down her back and stop just above the curve of her ass. It hugs her body, her curves and stops mid-way her thighs.

She's wearing heels which make her taller and her long legs look so sexy, I almost gasp.

Celia. What the hell is she doing here.

Amanda seems to have caught my line of thought, because she turns to see what I'm looking at- or who's sexiness I'm ogling at- and gasps. "What the hell is she doing here?" She gasps. "This party is for special people _only_!"

I raise an eyebrow and look down at Amanda, seething in her revealing, sweetheart lined, hot pink dress (shirt), which seems cheap and slightly tacky in comparison to Celia, who is all graceful and sexy. My breath stops short, when her friend says something in her ear and she bursts out laughing. _Man..._

Amanda narrows her eyes at me, and waves a hand in front of my face. I turn to her, trying not to let the spark of annoyance at her interruption, break through me and lash out at her.

"Come on, _boyfriend. _Let's get some beer." She says, wrapping an arm around my neck and pulling me to her.

I nod and follow, but can't help looking back every two seconds. It seems Celia hasn't noticed me or the fucked up things her body is doing to mine. Good.

Amanda passes me a drink and I take it from her, my eyes unwavering. Can she feel my gaze?

It seems she can, because a second later, she turns and looks right at me, her golden-brown eyes hooked on mine. I swear something electric passes between us, but she looks down, as quickly as she looked up, and all of a sudden, everything is gone between us.

The sense of loss overpowers me. Hell, what is wrong with me, all of a sudden?

I shake my head and turn to Amanda, grabbing her waist and burying my head in her neck, just so that there's something to do that won't enable me to look at Celia anymore. Or think of her. Or imagine that it isn't Amanda's neck I'm burying my face into, with her overpowering perfume and her foundation laden skin, but Celia's, soft, warmness.

I trail kisses up her throat and then kiss her lips, letting them linger. My hand tightens round her waist. Her soft, curvy waist and my hand tangles in her midnight black hair.

_Amanda_ lets out a moan, and all of a sudden my little dream has shattered and I'm up, shaking my head like a dog whose been drizzled with water.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...

I turn to Amanda, who is appraising me with half-lidded green eyes. "Let's dance."

She nods, and we go to the dance floor. I grab Amanda and look over her head, scanning the crowd of _special _people- drunk girls in bikinis, sloshing beer all over the place and equally drunk guys, roaming their hands all over the girl's and so one...

Celia is talking to Danny Hendrew. She looks annoyed at first, trying to ignore him, but then all of a sudden her eyes seem to graze mine, and narrow.

The next thing I know, she's walking to the dance floor. With Danny.

He takes her in his arms, pulling her to him so tight, I can hear her 'oof' across the floor.

"Ow." I hear Amanda mumble. "Dyl, you're hurting me."

"Sorry."

Danny looks over her shoulder, right at me, and gives me a thumbs up, as if to say_, hot babe! Score, man!_

I look away and try to squelch the bile that's rising up my throat. My heart is thundering as if I've been running a mile a minute, and something is roaring in my ears, at having seen Celia being held by Danny.

_Take it down a notch, man. She means _nothing_ to you, remember._

I remember. But that doesn't mean, I can't have a little fun first.


	13. Complications

**Hi! Sorry for taking so long, I had school and stuff! That is the reason why you might see some errors in this one, and maybe a little poor writing, 'cause I wrote this one between essays and all... **

**Also, this update is quite long, so enjoy! I hope you like it! I'm not gonna say much, because you probably just want to go on ahead and read, so...**

**READ AWAY! XD**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunatly, I don't own PC or ROA. Neither do I own eight feet clowns with rash problems and orange eyes. **

**Bet'cha didn't see that coming ;)**

Celia

I'm dancing with Danny but all I can think about is Dylan. He has his arms wrapped around Amanda Fruitt, and is slowly swaying with her from side to side. Something like hot fire rises up my stomach and I feel sick at seeing them together. The room is swaying and there's a roaring in my ears.

Why am I so stupid? I _don't _like Dylan. He's an asshole, a jerk, and a gangbanger.

_But he's so damn hot! _A voice in my head announces.

It's true. He's taken out all his piercings', his blonde hair is gelled slightly, tousled, which adds all sorts of hotness to his physique. He's wearing a shirt which is slightly open, revealing a tanned throat and a black coat over it.

I take in a deep breath and turn away, burying my head into Danny's chest. His deodorant is overpowering, but it drowns out all the other feelings.

"So." I say, wondering why I even agreed to come here in the first place. "What do you, uh, like

doing? You know, despite football...?"

Danny shrugs. "Since when did you get so hot?" He growls, burying his face into the crook of my neck and completely ignoring my attempts at conversation.

I laugh uncomfortably, and shrug inwardly, going with the flow. It must be a popular thing. But, his heavy breathing against my neck is making me too hot...in an uncomfortable way.

Slowly, I pull away, and gently untangle my arms from his. "Sorry. I gotta make a trip to the ladies room. Dance with someone else."

He grabs me back and plants a kiss on my lips, causing me to gasp. His mouth probes mine, his arms come around me and his hands are straying awfully close to my...boobs.

I pull away, and smile awkwardly at him. Then I turn and run into the bathroom, before he can grab me again.

* * *

After throwing water on my overheated face, I step out of the bathroom (which is bigger than my own room).

To run into 'his majesty' himself.

Dylan is looking down at me, his green eyes probing mine. I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

Dylan shakes his head, the gesture is oddly intimate. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I just wanted to look at you from up close."

I swallow and nod, then turn to leave.

But then, of course he reaches out and grabs my hand. He's Dylan. "I'm not done, Celia." He murmurs and all of a sudden, I'm wrenched back and his chest is pressing against my back.

"What about your girlfriend, Amanda."

I feel Dylan's laugh more than I hear it. It reverberates through me, and send odd shivers down my spine, but I try to squelch them. "Jealous, sweetheart?"

I pull away and say the only thing I can think of at the moment, that's even half way coherent. "You're ruining my hair."

Dylan chuckles, and the gesture changes his face, causing the usually intense, hard lines to dissolve and smoothen into soft planes. He's gorgeous. Unconsciously I reach out and cup him face.

He stops and stills immediately. I can feel his warm breath brushing my palm, and sending tingles down my spine and into my nerve endings. It's like I've drunk a shot of something heavily intoxicating: it can't be good for me, but at the moment I'm lost in its sensations.

I need this. He needs this. Everything is forgotten when he steps forwards, so the toes of his boots are flush with my strappy heels. He tilts his head, and it's slow...too slow. I grab the base of his hair and run my hands down it briefly, before pulling it down so his lips cover mine.

And then...bliss. And ecstasy. At the same time. They mingle together to create some sort of impasse, one that has me reeling. Kissing Dylan is by far the sweetest sensation in the world, hot and wet, our tongue combining; slow and yet so fast, I can hardly keep up.

My arms twine around his neck and his own clasp in my hair and waist. He walks back, until I feel the hard cold wall behind my back.

And then I'm lifted into the air.

I've never had this done to me, so I do the only thing I can think of instinctively. My legs wrap around his waist, and my hands go to his thick, soft hair. One of us moans.

"_Calliente." _Dylan murmurs against my neck. I laugh and pull his head back up so his lips can press against mine, again. Once again his tongue slides into my mouth, and I'm wondering why i;ve never done this before.

_Maybe because it's Dylan whom you've been waiting for._

I ignore the thought and let myself drown in his kiss.

_You love him._

Trails of the words seep through my brain, and all of a sudden I realise...

It will never work...ever.

And then my stupidity comes crashing before me and I pull away.

"Dylan put me down." I murmur.

Dylan looks up at me, his cheeks red, and his green eyes shining with a heat that I've never seen before. He shakes his head slowly, and pulls me down.

I gasp and push away from him, grabbing his shoulders and trying to push myself down. "Stop it. I want to...I want to go home. Please. Now, Dylan."

Dylan puts me down, so suddenly, I almost trip over. He watches me steady myself, and all of a sudden his eyes have hardened from fire to ice in a matter of seconds.

"You couldn't handle it." Dylan muttered, his voice as hard as his eyes. "Could you." It isn't a question.

I glare up at him. "What do you mean."

He shrugs and turns around. "See you 'round." He says, not even looking back. I'm torn between the urges to walk up to him and slap him, and run to him and kiss him again.

I do neither. Instead I go to Ada.

And ask her to take me home.


	14. Barbies!

**Hi! This is a short one, but one I thought was quite sweet, because it showed the beginning of Dylan bonding with, not only Celia, but her sisters. I got this from a really good review, and I hope you enjoy it and continue to read! Thanks for all the reviews, they honestly make me cry; they're so sweet! Even the ones with only one or two syllables! ;)**

**Keep them coming, and THANKYOU! :) You're reviewa mean the world to me, and they make me feel really good!**

Dylan

"Hey, Dylan?"

I look up from the massive pile of homework that I've just started on, and see a Celia's little sister staring down at me, her long hair in little pigtails, clutching a Barbie to her chest. Estelle, her name is. I'm sure this time.

"Hey, Estelle." I say, blandly.

Estelle pouts. "My name is Maria."

Oh. Shoot.

"Sorry. I'm not good with names. So, tie me up to a Tiki pole and burn me."

Maria just stares at me, her brown eyes, rimmed with gold, looking oddly like Celia's. I swallow.

"Wanna play Barbie?" She says, finally.

I shake my head. "Uh. No."

Maria looks up at me, and her eyes are seriously persuasive. I'm guessing it runs in the family, though, where Celia's eyes are crystalline and damn sexy, Maria's are innocent and pleading, looking up at me in that way, that only sweet little girls can.

I roll my eyes. "Kid, do I _look _like I want to play Barbies with you?"

Maria nods. "Yeah! You look cool! Someone I totally want to play Barbies with!"

I sigh and start to say something, when a voice interrupts me-

"If you're given an invitation, then you shouldn't refuse. She doesn't play barbies with just anyone. You should be honoured."

Standing in the doorway of my room is obviously, the third sister, Estelle. She's leaning against the frame, her hair pulled up into a pony tail, and her eyes- I can see them from all the way here- are a clone to her sister's.

"Well then," I say, "why don't you play with her then?"

Estelle blinks. Then she smiles and the smile is so like Celia's, I want to bang me head on the desk and erase it from my mind. Fuentes girl's power charm. I almost snicker out loud.

"She hasn't invited _me_ to play." Estelle says, her smile turning crooked. I can't help but think that whichever guy would be lucky enough to have her, she'd probably give him a run for his money. All three of them would. "Besides, I'm going for a sleepover at my friend's house."

I raise an eyebrow, but nod. Maris pulls at the edge of my 'Killers' shirt. "What?" I say, annoyed.

"Play with me!" She responds, equally snappy. But then she stops and giggles. "Pretty please, with a cherry on top, pinkie swear the mean Barbie won't hurt you or anything. She just wants to pwaaaaay!"

"Go with her, or you'll regret it later on." Estelle says, with a wink. Then she shoulders her duffle bag, and slips down the stairs. I hear her leave the house with a 'guys I'm going to Sara's, don't wait up!' and a bang.

I look down at Maria again. She's looking up at me with hopeful eyes. Damn, but did I mention they looked exactly like Celia's?

"Fine." I growl.

Maria's whoop of joy is so loud, I swear the pigeons on the balcony fly away.


	15. The other side

**Is this the londest update yet? Hmm...not sure! ;)**

**The content is in the chapters. I hope you're enjoying what's going on so far! I sure am!**

**Thankyou for your reviews. You're all so sweet! **

**And the suggestions, which I will take into account, because you all have some really great ideas about what should happen next. I got a good suggesgtion about playing in the snow, so yeah...**

**EPIC!**

**Also, you kinda have to keep up with Dylan on this one. He's very tempramental, and I wanted to show that (on purpose) him and Celia were connecting. Sorry if it's confusing, or kind of stupid! :S**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Simone Elkeles's work the same way I don't own Wagner off the X Factor- with bitter, bitter remorse and sadness...**

**But I can fantasize ;)**

Celia

"I'm home!"

No one replies.

I frown and lock the door behind me. I know that mom and dad are out at uncle Luis's and Estelle is over at Sara's house for a sleepover, but Maria and Dylan should be at home.

"Maria?"

Not one answer.

I'm suddenly seized with worry over my baby sister. What if Dylan decided to hitch a ride over with Amanda and Danny, and left Maria here all alone? I know I was supposed to babysit, but I had stupidly assumed that he would be at home, and gone out with Ada and Callum. Placed my trust in the stupid hands of a stupid guy.

Swallowing back bile, I shoot upstairs and call out to Maria again. No one replies...again.

Panic is shooting through my veins and I feel lightheaded. If something happened to Maria...

I burst into her bedroom...she's-

She and Dylan are...lying on the floor opposite each other, carrying around Barbie dolls, and _giggling._

I almost run my eyes, just to see if what I was witnessing is true.

"Hey, Celia!" Maria exclaims. "We're playing, look!"

"Why...why didn't you reply? I was scared!" I say.

Maria shrugs, and fiddles with the arms of her Ken doll. "I didn't hear you."

I nod, dumbfounded. Dylan suddenly looks up from his Barbie, his green eyes meeting mine, and raises an eyebrow. "I swear, if you tell anyone at school..."

I nod again, and blink. "Why...?" I let my question trail off. It seems that I am incapable of speech.

Dylan shrugs. "She wanted to. I had nothing else to do anyway."

I feel the back of my eyes stinging, and my throat feels dry, though I'm not sure why exactly. I nod once more, turn and start to leave the room.

Dylan calls out, "wait, Celia."

I stop and turn around slowly. "What?" I whisper.

He stands up, brushing his knees, and looks down at my baby sister, his green eyes...tender? It seems as if the hard ice chips are melting into twin pools of green. "Listen, little M, I gotta have a word with your big sis for a second. Think you can handle both of them?"

Maria nods, smiling, and turns back to her dolls. Dylan passes by me, and holds the door open by leaning against it. I pass under him and turn around, to face him staring at me.

"Yes?" I ask.

Dylan just stares.

"What?"

"I know what you're gonna say." He says, finally, leaning against the walls my mom so diligently painted. A light beige colour, which clashed with his golden hair. His emerald eyes are fixed on me.

"What am I gonna say?" I demand, crossing my arms. His gaze goes to where my arms are folded, under my breasts. I uncross them hastily.

"Why."

It's my turn to do the eyebrow raising, a smirk playing on my lips. "Excuse me...?"

"Why am I doing it. Playing with Maria." Dylan explains, a crease forming in between his eyebrows. I want to reach over and un-crease them, make them smooth and light again. Make his less...burdened. "Well. I don't know why, so there's no point in asking it."

I shake my head. "Dylan, I wasn't going to ask you."

"Oh. Kay, then."

There's a minute of silence. It's not awkward, but not comfortable, either. Recollections of the night before flood into my mind, just looking at him, his hands in my hair, mine in his, smoothing those blonde tendrils back. His hands stroking down my back, running along my body, dipping under my dress. A blush creeps to my cheeks.

Dylan doesn't seem to notice. He's running his tongue over his lip ring, worriedly. I remember when it was my tongue running over that lip ring, and before that, admitting to being scared of getting stuck in it. I'm not scared now, far from it. My blush deepens.

"Why are you blushing?" Dylan asks, eyeing me, oddly.

I almost choke on my own spit. How can I admit to him, I was having recollections of when him and I getting to second base the other night? "I'm just...blushing for you...because...you're playing Barbies..." I pause and grin, wickedly. "_with a little girl!"_

Dylan's eyes widen. Then his mouth opens. He closes it, quickly with a snap and then narrows his eyes at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You...take that back!"

I laugh. "No, thanks. Just pose by Maria, and let me get my cell phone out for a picture. Preferably, would you wear a bonnet, too?"

Dylan jumps me. One second I'm standing, laughing at him. The next, I'm on the floor, and Dylan is on top of me. "You ticklish?" He asks me, his nose pressed to mine.

I gasp, and say, "no!"

Dylan raises his eyebrows. A hand creeps round and presses against my stomach. "You sure?" He starts to tickle me. I let out an inhuman shriek.

Dylan flinches, and looks down at me, surprise and amusement playing on his face. "What was that, huh?"

I cover my mouth and look away, my cheeks flaming more than ever. "Nothing."

Dylan smirks. "It was something." He starts to tickle my even more, mercilessly. I giggle, and am soon out of breath. Dylan looks down at me, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks red. My words are stunted, and breathy:

"Get...off! Dylan, stop...tickling!" I laugh.

Dylan grins even wider. "No, you're cute when you laugh."

I gasp and hit him, feebly.

And he stops.

I look up at him. "What?"

Dylan is looking down at me, his eyes suddenly serious and wide. His face is a mix of amusement and wonder. "What?" I ask.

He shakes his head, and rolls off me, sitting up. I scoot opposite him, and observe him. He's looking down at his hands, his amusement seems to have dissipated into the air around him.

"Nothing."

I nod, and start to stand up, still unsure of what to do. Dylan and his temperamental moods...they made him almost Bipolar. Then I stop.

"Dylan?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you mean last night about how I couldn't handle it?" I ask.

"Hmmm...?" Dylan is looking up from his hands at me, a confused look playing on his face. My stomach seems to sink. He doesn't even remember.

I shake my head, smile at him, and turn away.

"I meant that you couldn't handle the kiss." Dylan says suddenly.

I turn and look at him, straight in the eye. "Oh, I could handle it. I just..." I trailed off pathetically, my impressive words disappearing as he stands up, walks towards me and takes my hand.

"You're lucky, you know." He says, softly. "You have a life, a family. Siblings..."

I look up at Dylan and then down at my hand which he is pressing against his chest, as if it's something he treasures dearly. I know he doesn't though. This is just one of his moods.

I know that.

And yet...

"Did you, ah, have any? Siblings, I mean." I ask. As soft as his voice is, mine is softer.

Dylan nods. "One. One little sister. Her name was Adaleine. She was Maria's age when she died."

I swallow and look back at Maria's room. She's sitting on the floor quietly, walking her Barbie doll across the floor, a soft, blissful smile on her face. I choke back tears.

"That must...suck." I say the words before I can think of anything else.

Dylan laughs bitterly. "Yeah."

I lean forwards, and, despite the way he's been treating me, and despite the fact that I know he's using me, and despite the fact that we've had so many confusing issues since he has arrived, I stroke back his hair. "I...I don't know what to say, Dylan."

Dylan shrugs.

"H-How...?" I whisper.

Dylan looks down at my hand, which is still pressed to him. "A fire. A bunch of drug dealers burnt our house down. Because my dad couldn't pay him back. _He_ was fucked up bastard, but my mom and sister didn't deserve to die." Dylan swallows and I stroke his hair again.

"Sssh." I say. "I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about it."

Dylan looks at me oddly. His eyes are filled with tears. I feel like crying with him, because for some retarded, stupid reason, his pain is breaking my heart.

"I want to. You make me want to." Dylan breathes. He leans his head down, against my neck and breathes in my scent. "I haven't talked like this...well, ever." He gives a harsh cry. "Don't tell anyone."

I press my nose into his hair and say nothing. My neck is damp, as I lean back against the wall and let him do what he needs to do, let it out.

After a few minutes, he leans back and glares at me. "I mean it. Don't tell anyone. I'm not a pussy."

I nod. "Of course."

Dylan looks down. There's something about him that's sort of vulnerable, but edged with a hard metallic shield at the same time. I want to rub it away, chip off his edges and make him reveal who he really is, but I don't think he'll let me.

Dylan leans in quickly, and kisses me, softly. I stand there, my back against the wall, my hands braced against the cool hardness. He pulls back and looks at me, once over, before turning back into Maria's room, and kneeling down next to her. She gives him the Barbie and he raises an eyebrow, looking at it, before making it walk towards Maria's doll and giving it a kiss on the cheek.

Me? I'm standing at the door, like a twit for a second. And then I turn and go back to my room.

I've never really been good with challenges. It's an inherited trait. Once I take something one, I'm willing to take it on till the end.

Dylan _will _change. I'm sure of it. I'll make him.


	16. Snow!

**Correction: this one is my longest one yet...I think.**

**I hope you enjoy this update, and continue to review! I did this as it is, specially because of the snow outside and I GOT TO MISS SCHOOL 'CAUSE OF IT! I felt, it should be thanked by featuring in my fanfiction...It's very honoured ;)**

**Thankyou for all those that are reading each update and patiently waiting for the next one: I can fathom how you do that, because I know how insane I get waiting for my favourite fanfiction authors to update (AND BOOK AUTHORS- COME ON CASSANDRA CLARE- PLEEEEEEEEEASE LET CITY OF FALLEN ANGELS OUT EARLY FOR ME!)**

**Thankyou for liking my stories mor than they should be liked, and thankyou for being awesome, and helping me reach the 100 reviews barrier! **

**Disclamer: I don't own these characters! :(**

**(Also, PS: You might recognise a certain scene in here, concerning Rules Of Attraction, but it probably won't go the same way you guys might have thought it would- I decided to refrain from that, but it will come...stick with me!)**

Dylan

It's been two weeks since I joined the Fuentes household, so now, it's headway into December. I know, because I'm keeping track of the dates, waiting until I can be freed from this jail. How many months is a few months exactly?

When Celia picks me up in her car and we both go home, she's as quiet as always. But this time, it's a comfortable silence, and for the first time I feel as if she's not as mad at me, as much as wanting a truce. Maybe she isn't in the mood for all that hostility and anger.

At home- Celia's home- Mr. Fuentes is sitting on the countertop, decorating a cake. I raise my eyebrows at that. "Afternoon, sir. Decorating a cake, I see? What next? Dressing up in a housewife's dress and cleaning the house, wearing heels, and a feather duster? Mind if I get my phone out for pictures?"

Mr. Fuentes shoots me a dirty look. He'd have probably shot me a lot more than a look if he had the chance, but his wife walks in with Estelle and Maria.

"Hey honey." Mrs. F say's to Celia. "Had a nice time in school?"

Celia props herself up on the high stool and sticks her finger in the icing of the cake, when her dad turns away. Licking her finger, she says, "yeah, it was cool. We dissected a flesh eating shrew in bio."

Mrs. F makes a funny face, and Estelle complies. "Gross."

"Yeah, it was."

There's a few moments of companiable silence, as Mrs F starts to cook the food and Mr. F continues to decorate the cake. Celia is still licking bits of the icing, when her dad isn't noticing and Estelle is sitting on the wooden table in the middle of the room, listening to her iPod and doing her homework. Something rises in me when I see how happy they are together...not even happy. Happy's too shallow a word. Content. They're content together.

I want to be content, too. But I can't. I fucking can't.

I hate circumstances.

After a few minutes, Maria cuts through the silence with a shriek. Everyone either jumps, or swears. I do both. Mr Fuentes shoots me another dirty look, even though he swore too.

"It's snowing! IT'S SNOWING!" Maria squeals, all but trampling on Celia to try and get past to me. She grabs my hand. "Can you come and make a snowman with me, pleeeeeaaaassseee?"

I look at her awkwardly, and then shrug. "Sure kid." What have I got to lose?

As it turns out...alot. Because the next minute, Mr Fuentes is frowning down at Maria and taking her free hand. "_Mija, _why don't you take Celia and 'Telle with you to build a snowman? I gotta talk to Dylan."

Maria pulls at my hand. "No, I want Dylan."

Mr F sighs and looks away. "Fine, go on then."

Maria squeals and jumps about, and then traipses off into the garden, dragging me along with her.

"Guys, out a warm coat on, okay?" Mrs F, announces, stopping us all in our tracks with a look. "I want hats, scarves, gloves, coats, and boots on. Yes, even you Dylan, don't give me that look. Do you want to catch a cold?"

We put out coats, gloves, scarves and all the other crap on. Someone accidentally kicks me in the behind with their boot.

"Sorry." Celia says, looking up at me through amused dark eyes. The rest of her face is covered by the scarf she's wearing, and her hair is tucked into the thick woollen hat she's donned. "Couldn't help myself. You were bending over..."

I frown at her, and then gesture for her to go first.

When we get to the garden, the snow is falling down rapidly onto the grass, building up a slow, shallow blanket. Celia bends down to pick up a clump of snow.

I kick her in the behind, and she falls over in the snow, with a cry of outrage.

Estelle and Maria laugh. Celia gets up and looks at me, through wide eyes. I grin.

The next thing I know, a snowball is being pelted at my face. Now Celia's the one grinning.

I wipe the snow off my face, and pick up a huge clump of snow, and throw it in Celia's direction.

"Oh. No. You. Did. Not!" I look to see that I've accidentally hit Estelle by accident.

"Oops. My bad." I say, while Celia and Maria laugh.

"My turn my turn!" Maria claps her hands, and picks up some snow. She throws it in my direction, but it hits the fence instead. "Aw...poo." Maria pouts.

I smile at her. "Your sense of direction's a little off, ain't it, kid?" I stoop down to her level, pick up some snow and hold it out to Maria. She takes it. I grab her fist and whisper something in her ear. Maria listens, raptly, and when I'm done telling her, she laughs. "Okay!"

"Hey!" Estelle yells. "You can't _help _her!"

I grin. "Yes I can!"

Celia walks over to Estelle. "Fine. Me and Estelle against you and Maria. Think you can handle it?"

"We know we can!"

I guide Maria's hand forwards, with a thrust and tell her to let go of the snowball. It shoots right into Celia's face. She squeals, but it's drowned out by Maria's laughter and our high fives.

A pelting of snowballs hit us.

I wipe the cold snow off my face and look up to see Celia staring right at me. The message in her eyes say, _It's on, baby._

I like a girl who challenges me.

After numerous throws of snow and a couple of failed attempts and even a couple of falls into the snow, I hear Mrs Fuentes.

"Guys, come inside now. I've made hot chocolate!" She calls from the patio. She looks warm in her dry clothes. I feel my hands start to numb up.

As soon as we get inside, Mrs F gives me a cup of hot chocolate. It looks and smells good, with whipped cream and marshmallows- the whole bit. I bite my lip and look down at the chocolate, contemplating whether real men actually drink hot chocolate.

Celia catches my look, and raises an eyebrow. "Go on. You won't be less masculine if you like hot chocolate."

I follow her orders. The warm drink causes my insides to warm up.

Mrs. F order us to take hot showers before coming downstairs. And I comply. I'm surprising myself more and more by not responding with a snappy or sarcastic retort. Maybe because for the first time in my life, I've actually had a good time with these people. Even Mr Fuentes, who has decided to quit with the stares and is choosing to ignore me. Whatever.

We all sit down to watch a movie. Transformers. I smirk at the choice but don't say anything. And as the movie plays, I'm enjoying it bit by bit, which is a surprise, too.

Finally, once the movie has finished, and Estelle and Maria are sent upstairs to bed, and we decide to put on a Christmas chick flick movie, courtesy of Celia and Mrs. Fuentes who want a little 'pampering.' While they watch with rapt attention, I stare out at the slowly falling snow, completely bored and see Mr Fuentes doing the same thing.

His mouth twitches upwards when he sees me, but then he looks away quickly, as if realising who he was smiling too. I suppress a grin and turn back to the TV where the hero has realised how stupid he's been and is rushing back to the heroine who is already on her way to the airport in a taxi, crying over how unfortunate she is.

I snort. If she was in my place, she'd be doing more than crying.

Celia casts me a glare, and I see that there are tears in her eyes, too. I roll my eyes.

"Well, I'm beat." Mr Fuentes says, stretching. "I'm going to bed. Your father wasn't kidding when he was talkin' about old bones, Kiara." He winks when he says that, and Mrs Fuentes stands up, too, a smile playing on her face, like she's remembering something that happened some time ago, and enjoying it.

Then they both freeze up and turn to face me and Celia. Mrs Fuentes looks concerned; Mr Fuentes looks mad.

"We're going upstairs, now. No funny business." He barks. "I mean it."

Mrs Fuentes snorts, the concern leaving her face. "I remember what happened with _us_, exactly twenty six years ago, Carlos, and _funny business_ took place then, with us..."

Mr Fuentes looks half amused, half mad. Finally he sighs and stomps out of the room. Mrs F grins. "Good luck you guys! And remember,_ respect your bodies! _My mother told me that!"

Celia, who has turned away from the TV, is now frowning up at her mother as she leaves with a light bang of the door.

Then there's silence, except for the chatter coming from the TV.

Celia turns to me. "You, ah, want anything to drink?"

I shake my head. "Nah, you go."

She does, bringing back a glass of diet coke. "You can have some if you get thirsty."

"When I do, I'll be sure to tell you as soon as possible."

Celia grins a little and turns to the movie. Her hair is damp and tangled around her head, like a halo. Her brown eyes are appraising the TV; wide and beautiful.

I want to kiss her.

Damn. I want to kiss her so much.

But I don't.

The TV turns black, and the credits roll in. Celia is wiping her eyes. "Sorry. I love RomComs. You must be bored." She adds with a slight twist of her lips. Lips I suddenly want under mine all of a sudden.

"Well." She says, standing up, with a sigh and a stretch of her languorous body. My pants are suddenly too small for my...ah, _equipment. _"Goodnight."

I smile and pretend I'm not completely turned on by the way she's catching her lips with her teeth, and her tank top riding up, revealing a strip of golden skin. I want to get down on my knees before her and kiss that strip of skin.

But I don't. I just watch her leave.

"Oh, and Dylan?" She says, grabbing onto the doorway, and turning to face me.

"Yeah?"

"You might want to wear baggier pants next time we're alone. Just some sisterly advice."


	17. Reactions

Celia

It's school again.

The weekend has honestly passed so quickly. First the snowball fight, and then the movie. Saturday was spent helping my parents at their auto body shop. When I asked Dylan if he wanted to come with me to the garage on Sunday, I honestly expected him to say no. He has better things to do!

To my surprise, he shrugged with a, "yeah, sure, I'll come." His words.

The whole day was spent with us lying under our neighbour's car, exchanging witty comments about the engine's fuel power, and the carburettor's overall voom. It was actually...fun.

And now, I'm getting dressed for school, applying the finishing touches to my mascara. I've just got the end of an eyelash right, letting it twist upwards, with a graceful flick-

"OH MY GOD, GUESS WHAT?" My bedroom door swings open with a bang.

I stab my eye with the mascara stick.

"Ow! Fuck!" I growl, covering my stinging eye and twirling around to face an astonished Ada.

"Oh. Oops, are you alright?" She says, biting her lip and stepping forwards, her arms outstretched. "You're mom let me in. I thought you were dressed!" I nod, not really acknowledging where I am, and start to make it towards the cotton buds, hoping I can press it against my eye. The problem is, I don't see the bed in front of me, and before I know it, I've deftly tripped over the wooden lining and fall flat on my front.

It's ironic really, that at that moment Dylan chooses to walk in. "Hey, I heard a crash and..." His voice trails off, at me, sprawled on the carpet, my palm over my eye. "You, ah...fell...?" His lips are twitching, a light eyebrow slowly creeping upwards.

I roll over and stand up, taking my hand away from my eye. It still stings, but I get up and turn to Ada, who is suppressing a smile, I can tell.

"What? Guess what?" I say, trying to maintain a cool demeanour.

Ada bites her lip. "Um, well apparently word's going around that Danny Hendrew wants to ask you to the Winter Homecoming!" She squeals, excitedly, her anxiety over my health forgotten.

I nod, and grin at her, trying to seem excited. The truth is, a few weeks ago, I'd have been ecstatic. Now, I really don't care. Well, actually I do care. I don't want him to ask me. I stand up, warily, wincing.

"Wow, girl. You're eye is, like...red. You look like Voldermort." Ada says.

I shoot her a dirty look.

"I mean, Danny isn't gonna ask you out if you look like that! I'll get some eye pads." Ada says with a nod.

I notice out of the corner of my good eye, Dylan's head turning towards me sharply. "That jerk?" He says, dryly.

I blink and turn to him. "What about it?"

Dylan smiles, maliciously. "Nothing. You two are perfect for each other. You're both..."

"Both what?" I say, sharply, not liking the sound of his voice.

Dylan shrugs. "Nothing. Nothing at all. You're both _great _for each other. You should say yes to him."

For some reason, my heart sinks, as if someone has pulled a plug inside of me. "Thanks. I will." I say, surprising myself.

Dylan smiles blandly. I blink slowly.

When I open my eyes, he's gone.


	18. Horth

**Hi! Hope this is long enough for you all! **

**This chapter is a bit fast and actiony, very jealousy, and badassy, too. So enjoy!**

**The writing may not be up to check, because i have a but of a stomach bug (aka, am throwing up right NOW), but I hope, nonethelss, that you'll like it!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own ROA or PC (OR SIMONE'S UPCOMING NOVEL, CHAIN REACTION, COMING OUT TWO DAYS AFTER MY BIRTHDAY! AND HAS EVERYBODY SEEN THE COVER TO THE BOOK, YET? TALK ABOUT RACYYYY! HE'S HANDCUFFED...TO THE SHOWER! EEEEEE!)**

Dylan

It's around ten or half ten in the morning, when I decide I've had enough. Danny Henderson is bragging about his sexual prowess, right in my ear, how he managed to somehow get six girls in bed last night all at once.

I can't believe Celia's gonna say yes to this fucker.

"hey man, are you listening? She said, yes. Celia Fuentes!" Danny grins like an idiot. I want to sucker punch him right in the ribs.

Instead I say, "what? That geek?" My voice is dry. I can feel my lip curl.

Danny frowns, and runs his fingers over his buzz cut. "Well. Yeah. But she's a hot geek! Bet she'd be great in bed. Her body is like...calling to me, y'know, man?" He elbows me on the side, conspirationally.

I'm going to throw up. Right on his Senior Panthers Quarterback, whatever vest thingy.

"This winter formal's gonna be _hawt!" _He hollers. "I mean...seriously hot. Like, smouldering hot. Do you think she'll be good in bed? Is she like, a pro? She better be able to handle all this," he gestures to himself.

"Dude." I say. "You're too much for her. Just...ask...ask Amanda to the dance."

Danny looks confused. "But Amanda's yours."

Uh...since when? I ignore that, and say, "then ask some other cheerleader, or whatever. Someone hotter. Looser. More fun. Celia Fuentes is hot, alright, but she's too uptight, man. She's no fun." I try to poker down the flames that are licking my insides.

Melodramatic? Me? No fucking way.

"That's the fun!" Danny grins, wolfishly. "All those other girls are too willing. I want to open Celia up, man! Lay her down on my bed and do all these things to her. Make her scream-OW!"

I punch him. Right in the gut. The idiot topples over, onto the floor, making people walking by us, scream and stop cold.

I hear a couple of people shouting my name, but I ignore them and run outside, into the cold, just barely slipping over the snow and ice. The trees outside are bare, and empty, looking like gnarled hands.

I keep running, until I feel my ears turn into icicles. I don't relent.

Images rush into my head as I run, images of a burning house. Burning bodies. Burning sister's. I clutch at my hair and stop, breathing hard, as I settle into a crouch by the nearest tree and bury my head into my hands.

I've lost everything. Everything. I don't want to lose her. But I have to. Because I may want her...yeah...I definitely _want_ her.

But I don't want to hurt her.

I imagine her with Danny. His arms wrapped around her delicate looking, yet more than capable body, fingering her lush curves. The flames roar at the image of his pale hands running through her curly black hair, fingering the strands of silk. His lips against hers.

I'm gonna fucking throw up.

I change the image, will myself to change it. I force down the dregs of jealousy, and curl into myself. But the images I see behind my closed eyelids turn worse. Because, before, I saw Celia in pleasure. At least, she was happy in Danny's arms.

Now I see her lying on the pavement. Her rosebud lips white. Her black hair fanning her face like a halo. Her warm brown eyes, are stone cold and glassy, unseeing. Her lush golden skin is pale. White.

And they're standing over her. Two men whose faces I recognise with a sinking feeling. Grinning like maniacs.

"You're the boy?" A gruff voice says, waking me from the images. I raise my head and look up to see a man wearing a big black coat, glaring down at me. His gray hair is slicked back and there he's got a cigarette between his thin lips. "Get up, boy."

I do, standing up, pushing myself off the tree, and raising an eyebrow at him. "Wow. Can't even let a guy sulk in peace here, can you? What is wrong with the world?"

The man sniggers, darkly. "Eh, shuttup and put her there." He holds out his hand to me and I stare at it.

"What do you want, Horth?" I say, glumly. "And how did you get here? Wait, don't answer that," I say, suddenly, holding a hand up, "just get out of here. I have nothing for you."

"Oh but you do, Dylan." Horth says, showing black teeth with a wide grin. He was never a looker, but he seems to have, if possible, grown dirtier...uglier. "You have your youth. Dealers like that. They like seeing a soul that could have been great, turn corrupt."

I sneer at him. "Fuck. You."

Horth sucks his cheeks in and casts me an dispassionate glance. "I'll be getting none of that from you boy."

I grit my teeth. " I don't need you to fix my life for me. I'm changing and you'll damn well let me." Great. I'm fucking lying through my teeth, and the Old man knows it.

"Ah...Westford, the old geezer. Trying to fix you too, huh? When's he starting?"

I shrug and glare at the man, trying not to let my surprise show. How does he know about Celia's grandfather? Honestly, I don't have to crane my head too much to look into his beady eyes. "Soon. He's coming over tomorrow."

Horth smiles, unpleasantly. "Does he know you can't be fixed? Does he know about everything? Or is he so stupid to think he could ever cure the likes of you? You, who killed your own family for money." Horth stops to erupt into a fit of coughing. He finishes and swears, spitting on the ground, and chucking his cigarette over one shoulder.

I stare at him all the while. I want to kill him, punch him, kick him. Hurt him.

But I can't, because he's right. Everything he's saying is correct.

"Listen boy," Horth says, reaching to grab onto my shoulder. I pull away, and swat his hand off me, in disgust.

"Get lost." I whisper, hoping it comes out menacing and not broken.

"I got a proposition for you." Horth says with a nonchalant shrug. "So sue me. It's just a drug deal, boy. What's got your panties in a twist. You've gone soft on me. Or disbelieving. When I said I would find you anywhere you go, I meant it."

"Screw you." I spit. "Go fuck yourself, Old man. You're bored, that's all. And you know what I can do, so don't treat me like your fucking son. Otherwise, I'll kill you, I swear to God, I will. You'll be a dead man before you get to see your own grandchild." I raise my eyebrows at him. "I heard about that. How is your daughter coping with her pregnancy? How old is she again? Fourteen? Fifteen? Must be tough on you huh? And knowing your own friend did that to her, as well."

Horth turns pale, his nostrils flaring, at the mention of what his very own ally, some guy called Doug Van der Lynn, causing his little girl to get pregnant. I grin at him, showing teeth.

Horth reaches into his back pocket, and takes out his gun. I raise an eyebrow and look at him. "You're a coward, Horth. A coward."

"And you just made the biggest mistake of your life." Horth mutters. "Bringing up my daughter like that. And refusing my deal. I'll kill you, you little fuck up."

"No you won't." A voice comes from behind him. A voice I recognise.

Mr. Fuentes steps out from behind a tree. I stop in my tracks, can feel my grin fading.

"_Hola, _Horth. Thought you'd be done terrorisin' children, but I guess I was wrong, huh? Knew you were nothing much but a pile of _mierda,_ anyway." Mr. F shrugs, like he's having an amiable chat with this guy.

Horth doesn't let go of his gun, pointing at me. "Carlos. Carlos, is this your child?"

Carlos- ah, Mr Fuentes- raises an eyebrow. "He's under my care."

Horth nods, licking his lips. "Good. All the more reason to kill him."

Mr Fuentes shakes his head, and laughs. "No. I've called the police, Horth. They're here. So, you see, you're _not _gonna kill the boy. You're gonna turn around and tell _la policia _that you're a no gooder and turn yourself over." Mr Fuentes whips out a gun, like he's Tomb Raider's long lost brother. "Or I will kill you on the spot."

I'm gaping openly now. Old man, Fuentes is serious. Shit.

And Horth is looking over at him, like he's the devil himself. Mr Fuentes, cake baker is..._badass._

Slowly, Horth lowers his gun and turns to me. "They're looking for you, boy. Just 'cause I'm gone, doesn't mean they'll be. You'll die, like your dad did." He spits.

The next thing I know, Mr. F has shot him, right in the back.

And then the police come.


	19. Problems

**I AM SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE! XD**

**Seriously...sorry. I was in Paris for christmas, and my uncles IPad wouldn't friggin' allow me to update anything onto fanfiction! I got your reviews though, urging me on to update! Thanks for those. It makes my story feel special! I'll never get used to the great reviews. Every single one makes me feel so happy! So thankyou!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own the PC series. Don't own the eiffel tower. Don't own JLS. Don't own Edward Cullen. Crap.**

Celia

English 101. Probably the most boring subject invented by man himself.

I know Ada thinks so too, because she casts me a furtive glance and chucks a ball of paper at my head, the moment Mr. Brunner looks away at the board.

I grab the ball of paper before anyone notices, and unfurl the paper: _WHERE'S YOUR MAN? _

I look up at her, confused. Ada is looking away at the board, concentrating so hard, I'm surprised Mr. Brunner doesn't have a hole in his backside.

I turn the paper on the other side and write, _huh?_

I chuck it at Ada, narrowly avoiding Amanda Fruitt's head. She throws me a dirty look, as if I'm the scum of the earth.

A minute later a fresh ball of paper is being hurtled at my head again. I grab it, just in time, before Mr. Brunner turns back around.

Amanda whips her hand up into the air, the picture of a perky cheerleader, with her short skirt, crimped blonde hair and pursed lips.

"However, if you were to consider the number of metaphors simply in the sentence that Shakespeare puts into his writing, you'd be able to see the comparisons made between the starry night and Juliet's- ah, yes Amanda?" Mr. Brunner raises his eyebrows.

"Mr Brunner, Cecilia and Adaleine are sending notes to each other." Amanda says primly.

My jaw falls open. Is she serious? I look at Ada whose glaring at Amanda. I swear if looks could kill, Amanda would have been dead long before she had started walking.

Mr Brunner sighs warily and holds his hand out to me. "Let me have it, please."

I give him the ball of paper and Mr. Brunner opens it, eyebrows raised. I feel the heat come into my cheeks and look down at my nails. Mr. Brunner's eyebrows start to furrow.

"Hmmm...okay. Celia, can I talk to you outside please? The rest of you, continue with your outline. Make sure they're ready for next lesson."

I stand up, my heart hammering. As I pass Ada, I look down at her. She's biting her lip up at me, her green eyes wide.

As soon as we reach outside, Mr. Brunner turns to face me. "Is the Dylan in this note Ms. Small threw at you, Dylan _Henderson? _The young man who joined us three weeks ago?"

Wow. Three weeks. Is it me or does that seem long?

"Probably. I haven't read it yet. Is there a problem, Mr. Brunner?" I ask, trying my best at sucking up.

Mr. Brunner glares down at me over the brims of his glasses. "Well, aside from the obvious, disrupting my lesson with your note exchanging, Ms. Small has written here, that she saw him get into a fight of some sort and then run away, earlier this morning. I hope this isn't true. That it's just a rumour."

I blink up at Mr. Brunner, shocked. "What?" I gasp, completely dumbfounded at what he's telling me. Dylan. In a fight. Running away.

"Um, excuse me?" A female voice interrupts us, and I jump slightly, turning to face the school secretary, a small woman with glasses and a brown bob.

"Yes, Mrs. Carlisle?" Mr. Brunner intones.

"I've been asked to bring Cecilia Fuentes into the office. Her mother is here to collect her; there's been a problem with her father."

My heart literally skips a beat at that. I nod at Mrs. Carlisle. "Um, I'm Cecilia Fuentes."

"Oh, Cecilia. You're mother is here to collect you, sweetheart."

I nod, woodenly, and follow her down the hallway. We stop at a door, with a label, SECRETARY. Mrs. Carlisle pushes the door open.

Mom is standing at the end of the office, wearing her usual jeans, boots and loose white shirt combo. On her head, there's a big straw hat and her brown hair is loose and pushed back. Her gardening gloves are stained green, and her gray eyes are wide. Obviously, she was busy in the garage before.

"Oh, Celia honey." Mom murmurs, enveloping me in a hug that smells like grass, light washing detergent and something else. Something that rings pure _mom. _It's comforting.

"Mom, what happened?" I ask when she pulls away, looking up at her. "Is Dylan okay? Where's dad?"

Mom sighs, and rubs at her temples. "I'll be taking her now," she calls over my head to Mrs. Carlisle, who is pretending to sort through her files, but is obviously listening. "Thank you."

Before Mrs. Carlisle can object, mom pulls me out through the small brown gate and outside to where her ancient car is standing. Oddly, looking at that car, the car that mom has had since before I was born, with the broken passenger window that dad keeps cursing and the radio which uncle Alex constantly has to fix, makes me want to cry.

"Mom, where are we going?" I ask her, once I've shuffled into the car.

Mom bites her lip. "The police station. Dylan and your dad have been caught up in something big."

And then she sets foot on the acceleration and the breath is knocked out of me before I can say or do anything else.


	20. Police

**Update!**

**Sorry about the shortness...for some reason this chapter sucks a bit, so sorry about that! I will try to get better!**

**Thankyou so much for your great reviews! You guys are amazing! Keep reading! And ARGH! How many months till Chain Reaction?**

**Disclaimer: No owny PC or ROA...**

Dylan

I

can't fucking believe it.

Five minutes ago, I would have sworn we were gonna be hauled into jail, asses first. Instead, we're sitting with the police, drinking coffee and sharing their donuts...and why?

Mr. Fuentes fucking works in the CIA, that's fucking why.

Well, not exactly the CIA, but close. Apparently the REACH programme helps eliminate dangerous drug dealers, as well as helps us poof defenceless kids against them. And now Horth is put into intensive care as Mr. Fuentes is sitting, chatting to the cops, and I'm sitting here like a friggin' ragdoll waiting for someone to jump up on me and say GOTCHA!

Knowing my life...and luck...that ain't happening.

"Great job, Carlos. We were looking for Horth or over two years now." One police guy says to Mr. F. Mr. F shrugs as if it's no big deal. I saw Superman do that in one of his movies. I'm surprised, Mr. Fuentes doesn't just spout a line of crap, about doing good for the nation and all of mankind.

"No problem, Greg. I'm happy to help." Mr. Fuentes answers, smiling coolly.

I've had enough. I bang my hand down onto the table, catching all of their attentions, and say, "what the hell is going on? Can someone tell me...now?" Considering I could have sworn at them, I'm pleased at my calmness."

The cop Mr. F called Greg, appraises me calmly. "Well, you helped us catch a drug dealer. Well done son. The problem is what were you doing out of school when you should have been there? Care to tell me that, before you start ruining my coffee table?"

I look down, surlishly. "I was running away to join the Circ de Soleil. I have recognized my true called. Happy?"

Greg raises an eyebrow and starts to say something, when Mr. F interrupts. "Dylan. Answer him."

I look up and look right at Mr. F in the eyes. "Why. Should. I?"

Mr. Fuentes narrows his eyes. "Because. If you don't I'm throwin' you out of my house."

I shrug. "Wouldn't want much else. Feel free to comply."

Mr. Fuentes rubs the bridge of his nose. "Just tell me, Dylan...please."

I almost faint right there. Right then. Shit. Did he just say the word _please_...to me?

I'm spared a response, though, because at that moment. Mrs. Fuentes literally bursts through the room, practically dragging Celia with her. "Carlos? Carlos!"

I feel my eyebrow slowly creep up high, almost disappearing into my hairline, especially when Mrs. F runs into Mr. F's arms and almost chokes the life out of him. Greg grins, amused. This is probably some entertaining soap opera to him. Probably the most exciting thing for him, since donuts were invented.

I'm sitting there, rolling my eyes at Mr. And Mrs. Fuentes' PDA when something blunders into me, almost toppling the chair down. I stand up quickly, the chair falling over backwards and look down at Celia's head, her face nuzzling into my chest.

"Oh God. You're okay. Mom terrified me with the jail-talk!" Celia murmurs, tightening her hold. Like mother, like daughter in these quarters.

I let my arms wind around Celia's waist, and lose myself in her scent, forgetting about everything, and pressing into my hair.

"You're okay, aren't you?" Celia whispers.

"Yeah. I'm good." I say, feeling something akin to warmth seep through me. The first time today, I actually feel good.

"Ahem." A disapproving cough has Celia jumping away from me. I stand there, my arms loose and awkward, wishing she'd just come back to me, again, if only for a second.

"Dylan." Mr. F is looking down at me, his brown eyes crackling with anger. "Why. Did. You. Skive. School?"

I raise an eyebrow and mask fact that I need his daughter, right now, in my arms, preferably naked and look up at him coolly, instead. Somehow, I think the mental picture wouldn't bode well with him. "Why should I tell you? You're not my father."

"No I'm not. But I am your guardian for now, and have full rights over you."

"I'm eighteen in a month." I say.

Mr. Fuentes grins, wickedly. "Then I have a whole four weeks to torture you mercilessly, _pendejo."_

I roll my eyes. "I'm not telling you, 'kay, old man? No matter how many Spanish swearwords you fling at me, or threats or whatever. That's my business."

Mr Fuentes sighs. "I'm gonna ring up Dick and tell him to start the REACH programme tomorrow. But, Dylan...you will tell me why you ran away, sometime."

And with that, he motions to the parking lot where a battered old car is sitting.


	21. More problems!

**Summary: So far, Dylan has been in the household for a month, Celia and Dylan have made out numerous times, Amanda and Dylan are going to the Winter Homecoming, as are Danny and celia. A drug dealer called William Horth has tried to convince Dylan to run away and join the gang again, various references to Dylan's family and how they died, and...I think that's it? :S**

**Thanks to all the awesome guys who review. You rock! Seriously, I really appreciate the reviews, and every single one of them make me smile!**

**I also like the critisism, so if you think the storylinbe needs anything, don't hesitate to comment! :)**

**I'm not gonna say much about this update...just...enjoy! ;)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own PC or ROA or CR...(CHAIN REACTION IS GONNA BE AWESOME THOUGH! CAN I GET A WHOOP?)**

Celia

It's around five by the time we get home. Thank God, mom's smart, and thought ahead, arranging for a babysitter to pick Maria up from school and make her some snacks, so she didn't get hungry. Estelle arrived home about half an hour ago, at which point, she let the babysitter go with a ten dollar bill, and now, she too, is sitting with Maria. They're both munching on cookies.

Maria leaps up, the minute we get home, and bounds towards us. To my surprise, she runs straight at Dylan, who looks as bemused as me. But he picks Maria up anyway. "Where were you?" She pouts, "we were supposed to play My little Ponies, today! I specially booked you to Pearl, and she's my favourite!"

Dylan smiles at her, his green eyes softening. It does something to me, watching him hold my sister and smile at her in that tender way. I don't know what, but the pangs in me, every time Dylan does something sweet is increasing a lot more lately. Not good. Especially considering he's an ex-drugged out gang member, who dislikes me, but tends to make out with me anyway. And, oh yeah, I let him. That's not the kind of guy I want; the kind of guy who's good for me in any way. Plus, I said yes to Danny Hendrew when he asked me to the Winter Homecoming. Why he asked _me, _I still don't know. But like Ada says, If you get the chance, go forth, before the hot guy leaves you for some bitch- cheerleader, and you're left as an old lady with twenty seven cats and not enough kitty litter...

"Yeah, okay, little M. Let me just...go take a shower. Kay?" Dylan's smooth voice makes my stomach clench. I restrain a gasp, at the feeling, and clear my throat.

"Mom, dad, can I go take a shower, too?" I ask, looking away from them, pretending to scour the nearest wooden shelf next to me. Did I leave my book in there? Please, please...

Aha! Found it. I grin, triumphantly and pick _Twelfth Night _up, brandishing it in front of my chest like a shield. "So the quicker I go now, the quicker I can read this for English 101.

Mom nods, still looking a bit unnerved. "Yeah, honey, sure. And sorry for taking you out of school like that, too. I got scared." She smiles at me and I smile back.

Dad sighs and winds an arm around mom's waist, looking mockingly remorseful. "I'm sorry, too, baby. I must have scared you both, huh?"

Mom raises her eyebrows at him and cranes her head round. "Yes. You did. And for that, I will punish you most vigorously."

Dad looks into her eyes. "Looking forward to it."

From the TV room, Estelle gags. I laugh, high pitched and turn to the stairs, bounding up them, two at a time. I was careful not to look at Dylan, before, but I hear his low tone, and then he's following me. I reach the hallway and walk casually down it. I'm not feeling casual. Something weird is happening to me, today.

My body feels curvier, more...feminine. And my nerves are extra sensitive, too. I feel cold and then suddenly hot-

"Wait. Celia."

I stop and twirl around to face him, my expression impassive. Under the dimmed lights his golden hair is a darker shade. He steps towards me, like a predator.

"Hmm?" I mutter, looking away. I'm unsure on what to do. I just know that I need to get away from Dylan, now.

"I need to talk to you." He says the word _talk _oddly. As if that's the last thing on his mind. My back presses firmly against the wall, and then he's inches away from me, our noses almost touching, and I realise that Dylan has a few faint freckles, but other than that, his skin is ivory and smooth, completely, gorgeously, unlined. I want to run my fingers over his cheek.

My hand clenches against the hard wall.

"About what?" I say, trying to hide the husky tones lurking in my voice. "And...um...back off, please?"

Dylan grins. "About the fact that I nearly died today. And that you cared." He pauses, and I swallow a lump forming in my throat. I want to touch Dylan. I need to touch Dylan. ARGH! "Do you want me to tell you why I ran from the school, today?" he fingers one of my black curls, the pad of his thumb just skimming my neck. That sensation alone makes me want to throw my head back and moan. My breath is coming out shallow, breathy.

The back of my mind is screaming something akin to, _what if mom or dad come in now?_

The rest of me is screaming, _TOUCH MEEEEE!_

I have officially lost it. But I don't care.

"Dylan-" I breathe softly.

"I ran from school today, because," Dylan continues, leaning in more. I'm pressing myself back against the wall, so much so that I wouldn't be surprised if it had an imprint on it, of my figure the next morning. "Danny Hendrew was telling me all about his new date. How she'd do in bed, and crap. And you know what?" Dylan's hand curls at my waist and lifts my top up smoothly, his finger etching light patterns on my skin. My mind literally explodes.

Dylan continues, "I hated it. Every image of you with him. And if he touches you at the Winter Homecoming, then I will fucking kill him."

His hand trails up higher, skimming my bra. He leans in closer, and then every thought turns white, completely blank, the moment my eyes touch his, emerald, and burning with something.

His lips touch mine, so soft at first. Then harder. And then my mouth opens and his tongue is licking me with little strokes that feel so good, it should be arrested. His hands trace my stomach, and my own flatten against the wall, my nails scratching at the durable paint there.

He lets go of my stomach and winds his arms around my waist, hoisting me up against the wall. My legs twine around his hips and my hands frame his face, my hair falling in dark curls around us.

Then he moves, quick as a flash, and my mind is completely transfixed on him, unknowing, oblivious to where we are, until the feel of soft mattress under my back switches me on. Then he's on top of me, and somehow, his shirt is off, and my hands are tracing his muscles. Scars, he has scars, long and scratchy against my fingertips.

I turn my head to the side, my cheek against the mattress, all the more to feel Dylan's lips against my neck. My eyes slowly shut, as his tongue trails down my throat and then up again. His hands are skimming my hollows and curves. My lips are ready for his again, but he trails lower, his lips brushing against my neck again, my chest, my stomach and lower...

And then he stops.

And so do our moans and groans.

My eyes snap open to see Estelle looking at us. And there are tears in her eyes.

My confusion lasts only moments, before she runs out the room in a frenzy of sobs.


	22. REACH

**Okay, wow. Definition of loooong chappie: this! **

**Seriously, this is a long one! So, enjoy!**

**Also, I want to thank the reviewers, like always, who are soooo sweet and kind about my fanfiction. I hope this update makes you laugh, or in any case, smile! XD**

**SMIIIILE!**

**Disclaimer: DON'T OWN PC OR ROA. Don't own the Fuentes brothers, nooo. But I own Chuck and Eric and all the rest of the guys at REACH. Ooh, and Julie ;)**

**Damn...why can't I get any of the hot ones? :(**

Dylan

It's Saturday morning, around five o'clock, and instead of sleeping, like I should be. Curled up warm in my bed, damn it!

Mr. F traipses down the stairs, looking as tired as I feel. Private security REACH guy my ass, the guy still hates mornings like everyone else.

I'm in the kitchen making coffee, fumbling for the ingredients and wondering how much sugar would be appropriate for my tastes. It's been ages since I've had actual coffee.

"_Hola, senorita. __No mama. Yo se que estas de la tienda de mascotas. __Preguntas?" _Mr. Fuentes mutters, dazedly, plonking down on the table, his casual t-shirt and jeans messed up. His black hair is tousled.

"Uh..." I don't know what to say to him. It seems Mr. F is still half asleep, "you, uh, okay?"

Mr. F shakes his head, like a dog shakes a tick off his fur, and murmurs, "coffee."

I give him my coffee. Normally I'm not so generous, but after what happened with his daughter(s) yesterday, it seems as if feelings are arising in me, that I have never actually felt before...exhibit A: guilt.

Apparently I have seriously screwed over his middle daughter, Estelle.

How was I supposed to know the girl had the hots for me? She barely spoke to me, aside from the odd word or so. Was that enough for her to realise she liked me?

Apparently it was. I'm irresistible.

That's no reason to screw over a fourteen year old, though. Not cool.

After Estelle ran off in a fit of sobs, Celia had pushed me off her, squirmed her warm, soft body away from mine, and ran after her, looking as horror stricken as her sister.

Estelle had barricaded herself inside her room. I had hurriedly slipped my shirt on, and ran after her too. We had spent the rest of the night trying to bang down her door, using different methods of extraction.

One time, I had contemplated using the three foot statuette of the abstract couple forming the 'Beast with two backs' perched on the corner of the hallway. Celia had given me a weird look for that. Turns out the statue is of some Indian Goddess, not two people having sex. After that she had given me the weirdest looks, tinged with embarrassment.

Finally, we had to stop trying to bang Estelle's door down, and had given up. At that point, Mrs. F had come upstairs asking what was wrong, and Celia was avoiding looking at my eyes. Because of my jumping on Celia, Estelle had gotten upset for no apparent reason, Celia, in turn had gone to bed guilty and sad, and I hardly got any sleep. The feel of Celia's body against mine, flush and warm and so soft, haunted my thoughts, kept me awake and frustrated. The taste of her skin, the smell of her hair, the way her soft breathy moans echoed through my whole body as I taste her, my lips falling lower and lower and lower...

I shake myself and look down to see Mr. F giving me a death glare. What did I say 'bout the Fuentes people being mind readers?

By the time we have finished the coffee and eaten some toast, Mr. F is halfway sane, and about as cheerful as Spongebob Squarepants discovering he had lost his job at the Krusty Krab.

Not very fucking cheerful, that's what.

We step outside, not surprised to see snow falling rapidly down to rest against the dark pavement. It's the beginning of December and Colorado is cold enough as it is. Has it only been a few months that I've been at the Fuentes household?

By the time we get in the car and Mr. F has defrosted the inside, his dark gaze on mine has cancelled out the warmth of the engine. I sigh and turn to face him, bracing myself.

"What?" I demand. "Huh, old man? Why're you shooting me fuckin' death glares? What did I do?"

"Watch your mouth."

I smirk. "You can't tell me what to watch. I've seen you at your weakest, old man. Half asleep, Spanish, and just plain weird."

Mr. F actually blushes. "I'm older that you, and you have no respect for me? I take you into my house, give you the courtesy of my culture and family-"

I scoff at that. "Courtesy? Fuckin' courtesy? Old man, you have given me NO courtesy. From the moment you saw me, you've been treating me like I have fucking syphilis and it's fucking contagious! And you know what? I don't give a _shitload_ of _crap_ what you think of me, or whether I should treat you with the respect you deserve, because you know what? REACH or not, _nothing _is gonna fucking work on me, because I have been through more than your little pinky has been through!"

There is a pause that's frosty on the verge of being an avalanche, and right now, an avalanche is what I'm looking for.

"And two of your daughters are in love with me. And I've screwed one of 'em. So there." I finish, smug. Waiting for the explosion. Waiting for his pain, the pain that he's been devoid of for a friggin' long time, while I've suffered so much, I'm shoulder deep in it.

Instead Mr. F throws back his head and laughs.

My jaw falls open.

By the time Mr. F finishes his little chuckle fest, I'm fuming.

"Glad you think it's funny that your daughters are pining after me."

Mr. F wipes an eye. "_Mijo, _now you're just fuckin' with me. _None_ of my daughters are pining after you!"

I roll my eyes. An old man is a blind man, it seems.

"Uh, yeah they are. Celia and Estelle."

At the name Estelle, Mr. F bursts into a fit of laughter, again. "Estelle? ESTELLE? No fuckin' way does _Estelle _have a crush on _you!_ Estelle has a crush on you..." he chortles, shaking his head. "Delusional."

I sigh. "Hate to break it to you old man, but she likes me."

"And how do you know that?" Mr. F asks, angrily, now. I have triggered his bad side, it seems. Good.

"Because, I was making out with Celia and she came right in and ran out crying, that's why." I raise my eyebrows at him, waiting for the reaction.

Mr. F has completely sobered up. His face turns a slow shade of red. I watch, clinically, as he narrows his eyes slowly. "You were whatting with my daughter, now?" Mr. F whispers.

"Making out. Well, a little more than that actually..."

Mr. F closes his eyes for a sec, which is kinda dangerous, considering we're on the highway, but he opens then, with a snap, the moment the starts starts to swerve gently to the side.

"Did you not listen to the rules I set out for you?" Mr. F mutters, using one hand to run a hand through his jet black hair, the other clamped severely on the steering wheel. "No fuckin' with my daughters."

I roll my eyes. "That's what you get letting a gangbanger into the house."

Mr. F glares at me from the corners of his eyes. "The only reason I'm condonin' you, son, is because I was a gangbanger, too. Count your stars I understand your situation."

"Oh. I feel so honoured! You _get _me!" I clap my hands in mock glee, and the sound reverberates through the car making me and Mr. F both flinch. It seems the frosty air has taken a toll on my skin too, 'cause it friggin' _hurts_ my hands, as well.

"Don't push it. I'm done with the empty threats 'bout you leaving my house. Either you pick yourself up and stay away from my daughters or I'll personally throw you to the sharks."

By 'sharks' I'm guessing he means Horth's crew, who are probably hounding through Illinois looking for me. Looking for my money. Looking for my dead body burned to a crisp, like the rest of my family's.

Mr. F sighs, as if feeling the temperature of the car cool down a few more notches. "Listen, _mijo, _I remember what I was like at your age. Young, wild..." he pauses and casts me a sideway's glance, "a lot more good looking than you are, yes, but aside from that we're alike."

I wait for him to continue, ignoring that comment 'bout my looks. "I remember how it was for me, how tough it was." He stops and smirks a bit. "It was fun, too, _si, _but I think the main thing that got me through it all was someone to look up to. Dick Westford was that man. Kiara's dad helped me through alot. And I know you think I'm just some old _mojado, _with no life or reason to live, but I do, now. I have a family, I always did. In a way, I had it better than you."

I clear my throat, and look away. This guy thinks he gets me? He's wrong. Yeah, in his day, he may have been 'da bomb', the gang member with the status. That's not how it is for me. That's never how it was for me. For me, it was the reluctant work to earn that little bit for my family, to pay back the debts that my father had lost. When he died, it was up to me to support my mom, and two sisters at the age of ten. Adaleine was nine, and Jessica was six.

Now they're all gone. And I'm left here, alone, in a house full of strangers...and Celia. Celia, who does weird things to me, when I see her.

I shake my head, slowly, staring as each mossy green plant speeds by, as if the car I'm in is still and the stuff outside is racing by, leaving me sitting here.

Alone.

I don't reply to what Mr. F has to say, because I don't care for what he has to say. I catch his little side glances every once in a while, but I ignore them. We're silent for the rest of the car journey. Him, probably thinking about what food he's gonna have for dinner, whether he's gonna take a bath or a shower tonight, or whether he's gonna have sex with his wife in his warm bed, in his warm house, or just lick her out, keep it sweet and simple.

And me. Thinking of those green eyes, three pairs of 'em, staring at me, begging me to help them, as flames lick their skin, and takes them completely in.

I feel sick by the time I get out of the car. We're parked in a grungy parking lot. The building in front of us is faintly metallic, the sun glinting off its sheen, which looks weird, 'cause of the moss growing on it. It looks like an old people's home.

Mr. F leads me to the front door. A secretary is smiling at her desk, and as we walk in, her smile increases to mega voltage. She looks like she's got a vibrator up her ass.

"Morning, Carlos." She coos up at Mr. F. I smirk, as she looks up at him with cow eyes. Mrs. F's got competition, it seems. Some old secretary's got the hots for her husband.

"_Hola, _Julie." Mr. F smiles, putting on the ol' Spanish charm. I refrain from snorting in his face. "I've got Dylan Henderson, here for the six o'clock session."

'Julie' hands Mr. F a sheet of paper, which he scans, eyebrow raised. Then his lips take on a smirk, eyes softening despite his obvious amusement. He looks at me. "You're gonna _love_ this." He grins, showing me the piece of paper. "I know I did."

The paper says:

**I, ..., certify that by signing below I agree to abide by the rules outlined in the REACH Handbook. I understand the ruled, which have been properly explained to me by a REACH staff member. I further acknowledge that if I disregard the rules for any reason I will be subject to disciplinary action which may include in-house detention, additional counselling, and/or expulsion from the REACH programme.**

I look up and raise an eyebrow at Mr. F. "This for real?"

Mr. F grins. "State of the art, real. Over twenty six years old, too. I still remember the day I raised an eyebrow at that same piece of paper."

I sigh. Damn, but this is gonna be hellish.

"Oh, except," Mr. Fuentes adds, "I was much hotter than you., Don't forget that."

"Oh, I won't!" I secretary, 'Julie' gushes. We both turn to look at her, and blushes and sits back down, from where she had risen to reach across and hand us the papers.

It was going to be a long one hour councillor session.

* * *

"My name is Eric, and I recently had a drug obsession. I was completely into gangs, and violence. It sucked! I know realise, looking back how stupid it all was. Self-fulfilment doesn't come from gangs and drugs! It comes from love! The love of your parents, and your siblings. The love of your peers and comrades. Even the love of my new boyfriend, Kirk!"

The stare up at the brown haired kid, with glasses and a snub nose, for a second, nod along, like I'm enjoying his little freak-rant and then go back to observing my nails.

Like I said...long session.

Before I know it everyone is clapping.

I clap too, completely bored. I can feel my skin peeling off their fucking bones. Seriously! This is a waste of time!

"And now let's welcome a new member of ours, Teresa, who recently dispatched herself from her gang and decided to turn a new leaf. Teresa, tell us a bit about yourself." The instructor guy, Chuck says.

Chuck, himself, is a walking-talking freak show. With his skinny fig, short dark hair, stubble that makes him look like a weedy coke-addict and squeaky voice, no wonder the man's working as a council therapist, in some old-people's home.

As Teresa, the only decent looking girl here, stands up, her black hair shimmering, and short skirt, not short enough, begin to talk, my thoughts turn to Celia. As they always do, nowadays.

Love. It's not love. I'd know if it was love. No, not love, that's too stupid, prissy. Lame. But it's something.

I contemplate her for a while, wondering if sex would sate the need for her. Probably. Sex sates my need for any girl. Unfortunately for them, in my experience, while it calms me down, fills _my_ stomach (or loins, whatever), the girl always wants more. Why? Dunno, beats me. Girls always want more. Plus, I'm hot, so that kinda adds to the whole brunt package.

So, sleeping with Celia will probably do the deal.

I imagine this for a while. Then my heart starts to race, as I think of it. Lying her down on a bed, watching her dark eyes darken harder with desire, peeling away the restricting layers of clothing and running my hands down her curves, her _everywhere, _letting the silk of her skin run under my lips, making her moan, groan, _scream._

Hell yeah. _Hell yeah!_

My eyes widen as my jeans start to...convulse. I'm getting a hard on at a group therapy session? Damn, I got to screw the girl and stop all this madness, now.

"And finally, we have Dylan Henderson, former gangster, now reformed high school student. Dylan, tell us a bit about yourself. Stand up now, son!"

I bite my lip, trying to force my erection down. But damn it if it fucking doesn't. Nooo, the more I try to get it down, the more I think of Celia, the harder I get. Crap!

Uncomfortably, I stand up, crossing my hands in front of my bulge and clearing my throat. "Uh...yeah, my name's Dylan."

"Speak louder, my son." Chuck urges. "Let yourself be free! Spread your arms and feel the wind of freedom glisten through those blond tresses!"

I grit my teeth. "No, thanks."

Chuck clucks his teeth. "Now, now, Dylan, you know the REACH rules. _Be a happy_...no, no, repeat all of you! Come on, repeat, _be a happy and willing trooper! _Yes, there we go! Now, we need to loosen those tight little muscles of yours so, let your arms be free!"

I roll my eyes, sigh and then painfully remove my hands away from my jeans. My hard on is there, clear as day and _it's not fuckin' going _down!

A fumbling gasp goes through the circle of teens sitting on their plastic chairs. Teresa raises herself up, more appreciatively, a couple of other people snicker, Eric, the gay drug dude bites his lip and rubs himself appreciatively (which is not disturbing at all!) and Chuck coughs.

"Uh...well...okay. Dylan, why don't you sit down and, um...cool off, and we'll come back to you, son, yeah?"

I nod and sit down, scanning the clock ahead as I do. Cursing under my breath, I run a hand through my hair. Half an hour to fucking go.

Yay.


	23. Oh Damn

**Okay, don't ask me what's got into me, I really don't know why I've felt compelled to write two chapters in the span of two days. Exam stress, boredom, literary wonderment, a new appreciation for fanfiction in general?**

**Hmmm...curious.****Anyway, don't worry yourself over my oddness...enjoy the update (hopefully!)**

**Tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own PC or ROA...or Chain Reaction. Should I start putting that up now, too?**

**PS: Also, I put Luis's wifey's name down as Nikki, since that was what Simone said the heroine was going to be called. I think. So if I have it wrong or you guys have new wind of an update on the name, don't hesitate to tell me, and I'll change the name! That's just what I've heard his love interest is going to be called...:)**

**And thanks to everyone who reviews. **

**God loves you.**

Celia

It's a week till the Winter Formal. A week. _Una sermana. _Uno weeko. Seven days, twelve daylight hours, twelve night hours...

I'm sitting in Ancient Civ. class, slumped over my chair, wondering how time could have passed so quick. That's not the only thing I'm wondering about though. I'm also wondering how Dylan's REACH class went and whether they're home yet, or not. Dad and Dylan both went, so one of them must have bit the others' head off at least ten times on the long car journey.

I'm _worried. _

Yeah, that is so not like me.

"The Ancient Romans had many different status' in their military. The _Optio, _was this man right here, as you can see from his stance, the way he carries his rod, and his broom feather headgear. Now, can anyone tell me what this Square satchel he's carrying is for?" Mrs. Cartwright says, scanning the class for unsuspecting victims.

Callum, ever the joker, puts his hand right up. Even before he opens his mouth, I know a wisecrack is about to come.

"His Dolce and Gabbana make up bag, obviously." Callum says, with a grin.

The class starts to snicker. Mrs. Cartwright sighs. "No, Callum, it's his _satchel _used for first aid and healing the wounded. Can, uh, anyone tell me what his rod is for?"

The class begins to chime in, following Callum's lead.

"His mascara stick, miss?"

"A tampon!"

"A sex toy!"

"EEEEW, Tyler, groooosss!"

Mrs. Cartwright shuts the class up, as everyone erupts into a fit of laughter. Even Mrs. Cartwright's mouth is twitching as she sternly reprimands us. The only person's whose heart isn't into the high spirits of the whole school is mine. And I don't even know why.

It's Christmas in two weeks, snow's out and pouring it down, the Winter Formal is about to come. Why shouldn't I be happy? Especially considering in a weak and few days, the whole family and friends are coming round to stay at our house for a couple of weeks during Christmas and New Year.

It's always been my favourite time, decorating the gingerbread house with mom, Estelle and Maria, creating the Nativity scene and _Farolito _with _Abuela, _cooking the _Ponche con Piquete _with dad, Jay, Paco, Isa and uncle Alex, and the _piñata. _Shopping with aunt Brittany, for sales right after Christmas, between New years. Occasionally, we go down to Nebraska with the family, and uncle Luis jumps down the ski-slopes with us, and mom teaches us skills and techniques and aunt Nikki plays the soundtrack at the park on the stereo for us, while we ski, on our favourite tunes.

So why do I feel so...odd?

Is it because of Dylan. Even thinking of his name sends a pang of shivers down my spine. But his name comes with strings attached, and one of them is Estelle.

Shit, Estelle. My baby sister, who was upset the night before, because Dylan and I were...

I'm horrified to feel my eyes start to tear up. I close them, and then open them again, blinking hard. Callum casts me an odd glance, so I stop and look up into the overhead lights. Someone once told me the pain of looking into a really bright light makes the tears go away. It doesn't seem to be working.

I breath is deeply, trying to get the ache out of my throat, the sting away from my nose.

_I will not think about that night. I will not think about that night. I will not think..._

Will not think about the way Dylan made me _feel _in his arms. Safe, truly safe. And happy, and warm, and loved. An illusion, all of it. If there's one person incapable of love, I'd name Dylan for the first prize.

And I can't help but think, that if Estelle hadn't come in and run away, upset, I would have let him have his way with me. I could be thinking completely different thoughts today.

Something akin to terror clenches in my gut and I try to shake it off. I stare at the board, the picture of the Roman soldier with his rod and satchel, looking proudly at the class. If only I could do that, be that brave to whoever or whatever was making the fear tighten in my gut.

But this fear isn't gonna go easily. I breathe in deeply.

I have to stay away from Dylan. Forget about finding out about his life and who he is. I care, I want to know, but I value myself, too. I'm _not _going to let him into my pants, that's for sure.

I swallow, hard. It's easy saying that know, I know...it can't be helped, I'm attracted to him. Attracted to a gangbanger, someone with piercings (well, _one _piercing in his lip, but still) and that dangerous aura which burns as much as it beckons.

No...no way am I going to let this continue. What was i thinking kissing him like that, anyway? And as soon as I get home, Estelle and I are going to have a long chat about what my purposes were last night and how dangerous and unlovable Dylan is.

There's redeeming the bad boy, and then there's getting too close to the fire. I'm _not _going to mix the two up, and I'm _not _going to rain on my own parade! I tell myself to stop thinking about it all and focus on class.

I quit after a few minutes and stare into space instead. Who cares about Ancient civ. anyway? What was going through my head when I decided to take it?

I'm distant during the rest of the class, and as soon as it finishes, I'm the first to go, up and out.

"Hey, don't wait up, or anything!" Ada calls after me, shouldering her bag, and charging at me, like a bull.

"Sorry." I mutter, and then try to perk myself up. I'm being unfair and inconsiderate to Ada. She has no reason to see me all depressed and upset over...nothing. PMS, for sure.

"Sorry my ass." Ada rolls her eyes. "Stop with the apologies and tell me what's irking your turf? Why so glum, child? You're going to the W.F with Danny Hendrew!" She lets out a squeal and I smile at her, trying to look happy.

"Yeah, I know." I pause and consider Ada, out of the corner of my eyes, as we walk down the hallway. "But enough of me..." I say, slowly. "You've been awfully quiet. Who're you going with to the Winter Formal?"

Ada blushes, and then puts on a pouty face. "Uh...nobody asked _me."_

I roll my eyes. "Shut up and tell me, idiot. Before I tickle it out of you and then, there'll be consequences." I lunge towards her and she squeals, turning a few heads. Truth is, I don't believe Ada is dateless, because 'dateless' and 'Ada' are Oxymoron's. Ada is gorgeous, and eye-catching, a firework out of crowds of grey, the odd one out in the best possible way. Guys seek her out.

"Okay, okay! Okay!" Ada screeches, trying to avoid my wiggling fingers. "Callum!" She says, breathlessly. "Callum asked me." And for a moment, I see something in her eyes, a flicker of true joy. I know why; Ada's had a crush on Callum since God knows when. Sixth grade, fifth grade? Yeah that far back.

All my troubles leave me when I see Ada's smile. It's been tough on her, being adopted at the age of ten, and all. Adjusting to a new family, after her old one...well, from what I knew of it, they all died in a mass murder.

She deserves this. I'm not gonna ruin it.

"That's great, Ada!" I gasp, hugging her. She hugs me back, and then pulls away.

"I know! Now we both have cute guys to go with!"

I keep the smile on my face, keep it for the whole of the school day. It's almost a relief to wipe it off my face on the way home.

When I open the door to the house, no one's home. Mom's out at the 'body shop, and she'll be back with Maria is tow, Estelle's at school and dad and _him_ are probably on their way back from REACH.

Shaking my head from relief- I've done enough acting for one day- I skip upstairs and lunge for my 'comfy' clothes and book.

I need a nice hot bath.

* * *

By the time I finish, the sun's set quite low. No one's home, yet, which is odd, but not unheard of. I shudder for a second, wondering if dad and _him_ managed to actually kill each other, but perish the thought. It's too awful to bear.

Swinging myself out of the tub and setting the book I'm reading aside, I fumble for a towel and then stop short.

Shit.

I forgot my towel.

Cursing, I step out of the tub and reach for something to dry me, but there's nothing there, but a couple of extinguished candles and air.

I sigh at my stupidity, and creep towards the door, stark naked. If I run down the hallway to my room, no one'll notice, right? No one's home!

Nodding an affirmative at myself, I unlock the door, swing it open and run like the road runner off 'Looney tunes' (except without the retarded 'beep beep!') and push my bedroom door open, ready to charge for the towels.

Instead I stop short.

And scream.

Dylan is in my room, watching me with rapt eyes, his mouth open, slightly agape, and his hand clutching at a photo of me, Ada and Callum.

And I am standing before him, completely and utterly, stark naked.


	24. Aftershock

**My conclusion for the rapid amount of updating?: I've gone mad. The GCSE revision and tests going on right now have made me mad.**

**So I'm going to enjoy it while I can and hope you guys do to! Hopefully!**

**Thanks for the reviews, that are so passionate and sweet! Don't stop!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Perfect chemistry or Rules of atttraction, OR CHAIN REACTION!**

**Sadly...**

**He he.**

Dylan

You know those times where you're sleeping and dreaming, and then you wake up and realise that the dream you were having was the best dream of your life and you can't believe that you woke up. Then you will yourself to go back to sleep, doesn't happen, you stay awake for the rest of the night, then wake up crabby, punch a couple of drug dealers who happened to annoy you that moment of time, go to jail and come out the next day just as annoyed?

Or is that just me?

What am I thinking about again?

Oh yeah...dreams. This isn't one. It seems like one but it isn't. I should know. I've pinched myself about two times already. If this is a dream, in the long run, then I don't care. I'm enjoying this. And, I don't wanna wake up. Even if she is standing there, naked, screaming her head off. I don't care.

She's screaming at me to pass her a towel. Not gonna happen. I grin at her, and she stops screeching for a second, her eyes widening.

Then I look her up and down. Best body I've _ever _seen. I'm not gonna go into details. This is for my eyes, and my mind only. But _damn..._

Tears start to come to her eyes, and she runs out of the room, quickly, down the hallway and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

I sit back onto the bed- well, fall- the image of her playing behind my closed eyelids. Footsteps are thundering in my ears. I know who's coming up, but I don't care.

_Best _body I've _ever _seen. Ever.

"Yo, Dylan! _Pendejo! _What are you doin' in my daughter's room and why was there screaming coming from here just a minute ago?" I open my eyes, her image still playing in my mind, like a CD set on replay. Over and over...

_She was naked! I've seen her naked! And she looks good, naked. Very good. Like, _killer _good._

Mr. F is glaring down at me through narrowed eyes. "What happened? Why was there screaming? What did you do to Celia?" This last bit is followed by a deathly hiss, and a glare that could make a fucking basilisk redundant.

What am I gonna say? _Uh, yeah, dude, the screams were 'cause I was raiding your daughters room because I wanted to know more about her- don't ask me why!- and voila, she ran in naked, and then ran out screaming, and I sat there, staring at her like an idiot the whole time._

Who says the truth is always the best option? That old virgin poet guy? What does he know about sexy naked girls and their hard-ass Mexican dads anyway?

"Daddy?" Celia's surprised voice comes from the doorway. She's got clothes on, now, to my epic dismay, covering her body. A loose t-shirt that hangs off the side of her shoulder, revealing a strap sitting against her golden skin, and shorts which reveal her long, sexy legs.

It's an improvement. But the scary thing is, I'm turned on by her wearing clothes as I am, her, naked. The same way I'd probably be turned on by her wearing something fancy, like the dress in Danny Hendrew's party, as much as that time she came home from her workout, all sweaty and tired.

I really need to screw this girl, before I lose my mind, completely.

Mr. F shakes his head. "I heard screamin'. Who was screamin'?"

Celia glances up at daddy dearest, eyes all innocent and clear. Sexy as hell. "Uh...no. No scrwaming here. You must have imagined it or something." She's avoiding looking at me. "How was REACH?"

Mr. F looks at his daughter fondly, as he ruffles her curls. He still looks slightly bemused, but I think his daughter has him convinced he dreamt the whole thing, or something. "Fine, _querida._ Where's your mom?"

Celia raises an eyebrow at him, and rolls her eyes. "She's probably picking up Maria from her Junior Pilates class. You know how she is."

Mr. F chuckles. "Yeah, I do. Well, I'm gonna go make dinner. Spaghetti okay with you?"

Celia nods.

Mr. F turns to me before he leaves the room, shooting me a glare. "And you should probably get out of her room and come with me."

Celia blushes. I roll my eyes and follow Mr. F.

But before I leave, I turn back around over my shoulder and give Celia a once over. Then I wink and say, "Nice body."

I narrowly avoid the pillow being hurtled at my head.

Narrowly.


	25. Busted

**Heeey!**

**Update, 'cause I'm feeling frisky! ;)**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own ROA or PC or CR...!**

Celia

_Winter formal this weekend_, my trail of thought as I arrive home. It seems that I'm the only one who really doesn't care about it all; the only person who isn't obsessed.

That's not to say I'm not excited. I am...really. I just can't muster up the commitment to think of the formal all the time.

I'm too busy thinking about other things. And, no it's not Dylan this time, although every time I think of his name, of God forbid, see him, hanging around the house, or at school, with his popular friends, that rush of embarrassment floods through me, as if someone's injected my blood with mortification. I've been ignoring his for the past few days, anyway.

No, it's Estelle I want to talk to, who, in turn, has been avoiding _me._

Dammit. Why is it all so confusing now? Now that Dylan's here. Everything's weird, messed up, different.

I sigh, and drop my bag down on the wooden floor, going to the kitchen, to get myself something to eat. Lucky for me, Estelle is sitting on the high counter chair, listening to her iPod, and doing her homework. Her eyes are down, focused on the work in front of her.

I sigh and smile. She doesn't look up.

"Estelle, I have to talk to you." I say, quietly.

She doesn't respond, just keeps writing. I try to swallow down the lump in my throat. It's weird, we've fought before, but this fight seems more scary. As if we'll never make up again.

"Estelle." I choke.

She doesn't look up.

I can feel tears brimming in my eyes, but refuse to let them fall. She has to hear me out. Then she can be mad at me, or think whatever she wants about me, I won't stop her. She's old enough to make her decisions and judgements. But just let her hear me out for a second.

I reach over the counter, and pop the headphones out of her ears. She looks up, surprised. The moment she sees me, her eyes cloud over, and her lips tighten. She starts to storm out of the room, but I reach out and stop her.

"Estelle, please, just _talk _to me!" I exclaim. "Tell me what's wrong. Is it me and Dylan, because, I swear-" At the mention of his name, Estelle jerks and tears start to come to her eyes. I reach over to try and hug her, but she pushes me away and runs off. I'm left staring at the place where she ran, wondering how I'm ever going to forgive myself for hurting my baby sister, over some jerk who doesn't care about me anyway.

I sink down onto the kitchen floor, and let myself cry. It feels good.

That is, until _he_ shows up.

I hear his footsteps, and don't ask me how, but I just know it's him. Maybe it's the arrogant way he walks, or the fact that the room swells up with his aura. Maybe I've just gone mad. Finally cracked.

To think, before he showed up, I actually considered myself a calm person. The advice giver when Ada got hysterical over a new beau, or whatever.

"Celia? What's wrong?" Dylan asks. I don't look up, but feel him crouch down next to me. I can smell him, his clean scent, weird for a gangbanger- aren't they supposed to smell gross, and stuff?, and I can envision him there. His motorcycle boots, worn in jeans, Hoosiers top, and black leather jacket. Blonde hair mussed, like always.

I don't respond to his question.

"Celia." Dylan sounds calm, assured of himself. God knows I'm not. "What is it?"

I can feel anger rise up in me, a torrent of bile up my throat, waiting for me to vomit it all out, say what's on my mind. I want to.

I will.

I look up from my palms and right into his green eyes, furiously.

"What's wrong?" I say softly. "Is that you've ruined my life. Okay?"

Dylan chuckles. The nerve. The fucking _nerve. _How dare he chuckle? Oh My God, how dare he chuckle at me?

"Ah, the teenage angst appears, finally. I was beginning to think you were a robot." He grins, wickedly.

"How dare you." I tremble, my words shaking. "You...you _bastard! _Do you know what you've done? You've completely ruined my sister's life!"

Dylan looks confused. "I thought I ruined your life?"

"You did!" I cry. "You ruined both of our lives! By showing up on our fucking doorstep! God, I hate you!"

Dylan looks amused now, raising an eyebrow. He's infuriating. I want to punch him right on his smirky lips. "And how have I ruined your life, exactly."

"You...you...you're all I can think about! You've done something to me, and it's just...it's stupid! You're stupid!" I snarl, pettily.

Dylan looks bewildered now, his face changing emotions so fast, I can barely register them.

"You kissed me," I continue, "and Estelle saw. Don't pretend it didn't happen. I didn't know she had a crush on you. Granted, neither did you, I think, but still! It's wrong, and you haven't expressed the slightest bit of sorrow, or anything, while I'm working my butt off, trying to get her to forgive me! You...do you have a heart!" I exclaim. I can feel tears rise up in me, and this time, no matter how much I try to hide them, look into a bright light or otherwise, they fill my vision.

Dylan is staring at me now, lips parted. Then he says, ever so softly, "oh I'm sorry. I didn't know I was supposed to say anything to her, considering, I'm not even part of this fucking family." His voice is rising slightly now, features cold, compared to the heat in his voice. "And I'm sorry, that you're fucking having a bad day, or PMS or whatever, and I'm sorry you're taking it out on me, and I'm sorry that your sister has a little crush on the big bad gangbanger, and I'm sorry that I have no heart, and I'm _fucking_ sorry that _you_ ran into your room completely _naked _and blamed it all on me, and I'm sorry that you have a family and a life that's worth living _and I've intruded on your little happy fest and sprinkled a little bit of reality into it!"_

I stare for a second. "I...forgive you."

Dylan stares back at me, his expression hardening at my words.

Then the next thing I know I'm in his arms and his lips are on mine, and this time, it's not tender or seductive or gradual, it's like a torrent of emotions flooding through me and out into the air around up and the only thing left is mind numbing pleasure.

I let out a moan and wrap my arm around his neck, my other, reaching out so I can twine my fingers into his hair. His hands are on me, everywhere, and then he pushes me back against the hard tiled floor, never breaking his kiss.

I gasp as the cold floor presses into my hot, flushed skin, but it leaves me, the minute Dylan's hand comes in between us, stroking my stomach and sending butterflies through my veins, which trail up and then turn into hot fire, melting me, burning me, singing my whole body slow, and fast at the same time.

The I hear footsteps. And a growl. A very dad-like growl.

Oh shit.

"What is the meanin' of all this!" Dad exclaims.

I pull away from Dylan, who rolls over. We both stand up at the same time and back away from each other, me blushing and spluttering, Dylan, looking up at dad with a cocky smile and a raised eyebrow.

We are so busted.


	26. Punishment

**Update! Sorry, it's short!**

**Thanks for reviewing, and, well, hope you enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own PC, ROA, or CR (btw, it's confirmed...Her name is Nikki- ARGHHHHH! XD)**

Dylan

"...Cecilia, this is _not _how I raised you, and I am so put off, that you would do somethin' like this _behind_ my back, young lady! You are so grounded! Understand me?"

Celia nods at her father's words and looks down at the floor, her midnight hair falling over her face, so I can't see her expression. We're both standing in the kitchen, looking ruffled, and embarrassed, in Celia's case. I'm just...well, standing there.

Mr. F turns to me, a furious expression playing on his face. He's like a grenade just about to erupt. "And you. Listen, _cabron, no me importa una mierda, _what you have to say! If I ever see your _patas sucias _on my daughter, _Lo juro por dios..."_

Okay. I didn't get half of that sentence, but the guy looks mad as hell. Mrs. F is standing behind Mr. F trying to calm him down with little effect.

"Carlos, calm it. Stop pacing, honey, and listen to me." Mrs. F exclaims, grabbing her husband by the arm, and gently tugging him back to her. "It's okay. They're kids, it's what they do."

Mr. F splutters, "kids? Kids! That boy is not a kid, he's a fuckin' _amenaza, _Kiara!"

Mrs. F sighs, and pulls he husband close to her, by the collar, dragging him down to her size and kissing him full on the lips.

I'm shocked at this; I've never actually seen old people kiss before. It's kinda surreal. As entertaining as it is gross. I turn to Celia who's staring at her parents, wide eyes, a sickened expression playing on her face.

"Mom! Dad! Gross!" She exclaims. "Do_ it_ in private! Is it bad enough we have to see you two groping each other in front of us, now you gotta add lip locking to the mix?"

Mr. F pulls away from Mrs. F looking dazed. Mrs. Fuentes looks at her daughter through narrowed eyes. "That was your cue to run, Celia, not _say_ anything!"

Celia bites her lip. "Oh. Okay. Bye."

She grabs my shirt sleeve and pulls me towards the door, but Mr. F stops us short. "No you don't. Nice try, though, Kiara. _Very _close."

Celia sighs.

"Okay, listen." Mrs. F says. "I didn't want to have to do this, Carlos, but you've given me no choice. Dylan is _not _leaving the house, I forbid it." Her voice is firm, and absolute. I'm guessing she wears the pants in the family, or at least in this case.

Mr. F raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah, he's gonna stay, Kiara. But I'm not gonna let him off the hook." He looks right at me. "You are grounded, young man."

I snort. Loud and hard. Celia scowls at me, and Mrs. F pinches her nose and sits down with a heavy sigh.

"_Grounded?" _I snicker. Grounded? "Why don't you send me to my room, and ban me from using the computer and my phone too? While you're at it, why don't you forbid me from going out to parties and hanging with girls!"

Mr. F raises his eyebrows. "_Hijo, _you didn't let me finish. You're grounded from bein' alone with my daughter. I'm also gonna make you help me out with the auto shop. You better know how to fix cars, 'cause that's how your time is gonna be used up." He pauses, then turns to Mrs. F. "_Hasta, _babe." He says, kissing her once on the lips and then he leaves, with a swizzle of his feet, and storms out of the room, banging the door on the way out.

Leaving Celia staring at the door hopelessly, Mrs. F looking slightly pained, and slightly amused, and me...

Well, nobody cares what I feel, anyway, do they?


	27. Winter formal 1

**Hey guys! Sorry for the slowness, it's been a slooooooow few weeks, and yeah...**

**Thanks for sticking with me, and don't worry, the story's progressing!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own PC, ROA or CR! (I don't own the person who invented GCSE's. If I did, I'd kill them with a blunt knife. I'm not joking!)**

Celia

Time's passed, so quickly, I haven't even had a chance to find my bearings. Before I know it, it's the day of the W.F, a Saturday. I can sense the jitters a mile off, coming from my friends, and peers on Friday.

I went to sleep with a sort of dawning horror. I didn't even know why, but it kinda scares me.

I wake up to a pillow being struck to my face.

"Oof!" I exclaim. "I'm awake!"

Ada sits down on my legs and jumps up and down, her smile bright. She's got her 'woman on a mission' clothes on, dark, skinny jeans, and a lace flowered top. Her blonde hair is tied up in a messy bun and she's got a pair of retro glasses perched on her nose.

"Winter Formal tiiiime!" She trills, ignoring my grumbles every time she bounces on me. "Today's sked: hitting the mall, where we will be joined by Tina and the guys! EEE!" Ada claps her hands and springs off me, bouncing like a jackhammer on some form of crack.

I step out of bed and roll my eyes at Ada. "Cute. You wanna jump through the ceiling, too? Let your bunny ears twine together and lift you into the air?"

Ada throws another pillow at me. "Just go get dressed, smartass. And hurry! We don't have time! Callum's picking me up from here at six, and so's Danny, right?" I nod, slowly. "Cool. Hurry!"

She ushers me into the bathroom. Outside, I can hear her squeal every five seconds, and smile, at myself, shaking my head at the mirror.

I take a quick shower, knowing that I'll probably have to take another one before the W.F and pull my own hair back. I leave the makeup- there's only so much my skin can take- and settle for moisturiser and a clean, unhidden face.

Then I sigh.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I _know _I'm not excited about the W.F, I just want it to end. And I'm sick of all these games with Dylan, and hurting my family, because of him.

I just want him to leave.

I want...

I want _something_. I just don't know what.

Why am I more excited at the prospect of working the cars with Dylan than going to the W.F with Danny? That's not right,. There's something off, I know, but I plan to forget about it.

I'll enjoy myself once I get warmed up. Definitely.

Shimmying into a skirt, and tights underneath, and a plain top, I open the door, to meet a bouncing Ada, and we both traipse down the stairs, and to the door, me, practically dragging her excited butt down.

"I'm going to look for a dress, with Ada!" I call, opening the door.

"Enjoy, sweetie!" Mom says, coming out of the living room door, and giving me a kiss. "Get a good dress for her, Ada."

Ada winks. "Sure, Mrs. F. Bye!"

Before I set out to leave, my mom grabs me, and pulls me back to her, hugging me tightly. "My little baby, growing up so fast!" She squeezes, and I groan.

"Mom!"

But I secretly like it. It makes me feel loved and safe.

"Listen, honey. If you can't find a good enough dress, just remember, you can always wear the one I wore to Homecoming with your father. You'd look so beautiful..." she stops and looks at me, smiling, bashfully. "But, I'm sure, you wouldn't think that's cool, right? Never mind..."

I grab my mom and hug her tight. Tears are coming to my eyes and I don't even know, why. I'm not usually so emotional, but I guess I'm just PMSing or something. It's just, a bout of gratefulness, which rushes through me, warming up my veins and making me feel tingly and warm. I don't usually get those, but maybe seeing people like, Dylan, who have no family, people to love them and give them their warmth and support, makes me sad.

"I love you mom." I say, and then turn around and run to Ada's car, before she can see my tears.

On the way, Ada and I discuss the weird things we usually discuss, and I'm warming up, feeling better and better, forgetting about the Winter Formal. We joke and laugh as she drives up to the mall.

When we get there, we meet with Tina, Louise and Mia, all as equally excited about the prom as Ada is. We spend hours looking through dresses, and various fancy jewellery and makeup.

By the end of it all, after five whole hours, lunch at Applebee's, and a stop at the book store (for me, of course!) Ada, Tina, Louis and Mia have all found their dresses.

I'm still looking for mine. Go figure.

"None of these dresses look good on me." I say. "Maybe I should just wear my mom's."

Ada looks at me. "You sure?"

I nod, running my fingers along the line of dresses, and watch them ripple as my fingers graze past them.

"Celia, hon. Are you okay? You seem distant."

I turn to Ada, who's watching me through perceptive green eyes. I can't help but think of another pair when I look at her eyes, and immediately blink the though away as fast as it came.

"Huh?" I mumble, stupidly. "Oh, yeah. No, I'm fine. Great."

Ada nods slowly, unsurely. "If you're sure. I mean..."

I look down, aware that I'm being selfish, ruining my friends' time. I put on a smile big enough to extinguish light bulbs and say, "yes. I'm fine, Ada, don't worry, about me! Let's go check out the jewellery and then I'll take you home and prep you up. Make you look like _Tyra Banks" _I put on a fake accent and make a moue with my lips. Ada laughs and links arms with me. But her laugh is slightly bland, and throughout the whole time, she's looking at me, through narrow eyes.

Ada's not gonna fall for my bull, anymore than I am.

By the time we get home, it's dark, reminding us that Winter is indeed here and here with a vengeance.

"Damn." Ada grumbles. "It's fucking four in the evening and it's as dark as the apocalypse."

I raise my eyebrows. "Who said the apocalypse is dark?"

Ada whips her keys out of the car, and locks it, as we step out. "Doooon't be going all philosophical on me, babe. Otherwise I'll bitch slap you."

I wince. "Harsh, dude."

Ada pulls me to the brownstone. "Life, dude." As we step through, it's silent.

"Mom, dad? Guys?" I call.

No response.

Ada puts her fingers to her mouth, cupping it around her lips and calling, "Earth to all Fuentes's. The mother ship has landed and we are here to take you all to the planet ZORBA and duplicate your life forms so that we can create more of you, as spawns. Surrender to us, immediately."

I nudge Ada in the ribs, to shut her up, as we walk further into the house.

Then I hear voices.

"...So good with the wires, have you done this before?"

"...Uh, no, not really."

"This is really excellent."

"Um...thanks."

I step out into the garage to see, Dylan sitting next to my mom's car, looking dirty and ruffled, his blonde hair sticking up in all directions. His face looks soft, and calm, as he talks to my mom, not at all the arrogant bastard I know. More like the guy I've glimpsed at, over the time he's stayed here.

My mom is grinning at her car. When she sees me, she turns and shoots me such a happy smile, I can only imagine it's to do with her car. Only two things can make my mom smile like that: Dad, or her car.

"Honey! You're back! Guess what? Dylan fixed my car radio...permanently!"

"Well, I mean, unless it breaks again." Dylan retorts, rubbing the back of his neck.

My mom grins wider. "Unless it breaks again...of course. But it won't! Look how solid it is so firm!" She bends down and gives Dylan a big hug. "Thank you soooo much, Dylan!"

Dylan's cheeks become red, but he feigns indifference.

My heart leaps at the sight of him.

Oh shit.

I look away and try not to meet his eyes.

Ada nudges me and winks. "Good looking." She whispers.

Then she extends her hand to Dylan. "Hi, I'm Ada. I've seen you around, but we've never actually been introduced."

Dylan looks down at her hand, brushes off his own on his jeans and clasps her hand firmly. "'Sup. Dylan."

Ada smiles up at him.

"So," mom says, fumbling with her 'new' radio. "Did you girls, ah, find dresses?"

"Well, I did." Ada says, turning her smile to mom. "But your stubborn daughter got all picky with the dresses. I guess it was just a prolong. Bet she secretly wanted to wear your, right Cel?" She nudges me.

I nod, sombrely. "Uh huh. Love you mom."

Mom, as expected, jumps up and down, clapping. "Yes! Come on girls, I'll show you the way to the dress." She gestures us to her room, a jitter in her step. Mom's always bright and cheerful. It makes me happy when I see her most of the time. Sometimes it's just annoying though.

Sometimes.

Before we go, mom turns back and says, "Oh, Dylan? You should probably take a shower and change into that suit aunt Brittany got you."

I exchange a look with Ada, who knows my aunt Brit well. Needless to say, she _loves _her clothes, and _loves _picking out clothes for others.

Dylan nods, looking right at me, a challenge with a raised eyebrow.

I turn away and follow my mom and Ada upstairs.

I know who Dylan's taking to the prom- Amanda Fruitt. And I don't care, as much as he'd want me to.

I don't.

I really, really don't.

I think.


	28. Winter formal 2

Dylan

I take a shower, and slip into the suit top and jeans that Celia's aunt Brittany bought for me, inspecting myself in the mirror.

Not half bad.

My hair is slick with water, and I decide to let it dry naturally.

Grinning to myself, I take the stairs down, two at a time. Today, has been one of the most productive days I have ever had, and that scares me slightly. The thing is, I actually...enjoyed myself, working on the old vintage car with Mrs. F. It was kinda...cool.

I shake my head quickly and take a deep breath, trying to cleanse my thoughts. "Death, famine, drugs and hatefulness...yeah, man, get into the old Dylan again." I scoff to myself, and close my eyes, dropping down to the last step and perching myself on the decorative futon in the hallway.

I wonder what Amanda'll be dressed like. A hot pink scrap of fabric, blond hair curled, or straightened, high heels, makeup applied to thoroughly and thoughtfully, you'd think that putting the stuff on would bring someone else something worthwhile, some sort of happiness or joy.

Too bad it doesn't.

It's old. Too old. When you dress up like a fucking princess every day, what's the surprise when it really matters? I smile bitterly, wondering how I even became Amanda's date. Did I even ask her? I didn't even ask her.

My head tips back to rest against the wall, which is cool, and welcoming to my flushed skin. My eyes close.

"Dylan. Are you feeling okay?" A voice. Celia's voice, of course. She sounds worried. If I were a nice guy, I'd reassure her that I was fine, maybe even dump Amanda, nicely, sweep Celia off her feet and carry her off to the Winter Formal in style.

But I'm not a nice guy. I'm a jerk, nothing but a jerk, who is taking advantage of a family, a girl, who wants to help me, and avoid me at the same time. For a good reason.

Her naked image pops into my mind, making me shiver, involutarily.

"Fine." I say. "I'm fine."

Celia sighs, I can hear her. "You're obviously not." I hear a rustle of a dress, and her footsteps as she walks closer to me. She smells so good, like a hint of shower gel or cream, roses, and Celia's natural scent, which I'd take over any sweet smelling chemical any day.

Cool hands touch my forehead, I feel a cold bracelet run over my skin. "You look pale." Celia says. "Are you okay to be going to the Winter Formal?"

_No, I want to stay here and fix cars all night._

_Scratch that. I want to stay here and fix cars all night, with _you.

I open my eyes slowly, and look at Celia. And when I do, I notice her.

Her hair is tied up in a soft bun at the top of her head, a black jewelled clip holding it back. Her dress is long, regal and soft, hugging her soft curves, like a second skin, a slit down one side, revealing her smooth, golden leg. An silver anklet sits on her foot, her heels tall and sexy, criss-crossing up her claves and ending just below her things, ending a little less.

She's looking at me through dark smoky pupils, long lashes framing her almond shaped eyes, and casting shadows over her cheekbones.

Beautiful, sexy, stunning...they're all too superficial to what she looks like to me. Hell, Goddess, doesn't come close.

I have to words.

I can't speak.

She's...she's...argh!

I'm chocking up.

She's staring at me.

She's so ethereal. So damn gorgeous, I can't comprehend.

"Dylan?"

My voice comes out in a whisper. "You...you look...good."

Celia nods, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thanks. The dress is my mom's."

The dress is an enhancer to what she really is.

I can't help myself when I lean in close. Celia backs away, alarmed at my suddeness, shuffling on the seat. "We can't. We've been caught already."

"Trust me." I whisper, stopping her, by wrapping my arms around her waist, and pulling her close. I'm not gonna think about later on, consequences, or difficulties, or how I completely lied to her about trusting me. I have to kiss her, feel those lips under mine, for that brief, blissful period of time, before she hands herself over to Danny.

Before _he _gets her. Touches her, Kisses those soft, red lips. Runs his fingers down her body and feels her against him. Touches her everywhere.

I press my lips to hers fiercely, the softness of them melting my insides. This kiss feels like more, like sunshine and warmth, all rolled into one, like an aura surrounding us, plastered to our skin, moulding up together.

"We have dates." Celia whispers against my lips, her breath ragged.

"Do I look like I care?" I respond, seizing her lips again, and cupping her face, letting my lips taste her chin, and down her neck. She falls backwards, slowly, my weight easing her down on the seat, gently.

"Dylan." She breathes. She's everywhere, her scent hovering around us. We're in a sphere all by ourselves, and it feels so damn good, so real, and genuine, I want to do this forever, feel this forever.

But I can't.

When she pushes me away with a moan, which is feral, and scared, rolls out from under me, and picks up her clutch, walking away, and leaving me bereft and cold, I feel something I haven't felt in a long time.

And it's weighing my heart down.


	29. Winter formal 3

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Celia

Danny picks me up and we reach the Winter Formal in time, briefly avoiding a long-winded mishap with my parents, involving excruciating amount of camera (mom and dad), tears, (mom) and stern talks about 'going over the line with his little girl' (Guess who said that...no surprise..._dad_.)

We entered the hall in time. It was kinda cute, decorated with streams of paper and a table with juice, and some snacks on the far side of the hall. People are dancing to the ever changing songs, some slow, some hip-shaking and fast.

Now we're on the dance floor, kinda moving our hips in an awkward motion and grinning at each other occasionally. The only thing he's said to me so far is, "Wow, you're hot."

Which I guess is sweet. But not that striking.

It doesn't help, either, that I'm totally thinking about a guy who I shouldn't be thinking about, envisioning his lips on mine and replaying the various censored scenes in my head. He keeps looking at me, from across the floor, sneaking glances, and scanning me from top to bottom- looking blonde, sinful, and drop-dead sexy- triggering a blush which Danny couldn't get out of me.

He's standing with Amanda Fruitt, who looks really pretty with her blonde hair arranged in perfect curls and her light pink, form-fitting Vera Wang, mini. I guess I'm slightly overdressed for the occasion.

Danny wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. "Wanna take a hike to the bathroom, babe? You and me, hot sex all vertical like? You can't get pregnant if you're upright, which is good, 'cause I ain't got any of that protection shit."

I look away from Danny, slightly grossed out. "Um...okay. Let's just, ah, stay here, first, though." Truth is, I'm prolonging this. I don't plan to have sex with Danny tonight, no way. Especially without condoms. I'm guessing the boy isn't exactly the brightest bulb in the lighthouse either, if he thinks sex upright can't get you knocked up. Infact, I remember recalling that him and his jock friends were out on the balcony of the nearest store bathrooms, throwing down water balloons at the passersby the day we had sex-ed. Skivers.

Danny leans in, kissing my shoulder. "Fine, we'll just make up for it here."

I smile at him, and lean in closer. It'll be fine. Everything'll be fine.

I catch Ada- she's dancing with Callum. He's got his arms around her, his dark brown head bent down over her blonde one. They both look so happy so content, with each other, my two best friends. They're chatting intimately, eyes glued to each other.

My smile grows wider at the sight of them.

It evaporates the moment I see Dylan and Amanda kissing though. He's got his hands all over her, previously all over me. I turn away. His hands should be on _me, _not her.

_Shake away the thought! Shake it away!_

I do, shaking like a dog drying itself off. Danny leans back a little.

"Okay babe?" He grins, slightly. "Cold?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm fine. Great. Kiss me."

Before I have time to register my own shocking words, Danny leans in and meshes his lips with mine. It feels good, like a hug or a kiss on the cheek. But I'm not stupid enough to know that _good _just doesn't cut it in the physical attraction- department.

Earth-shattering, fire inducing, shockingly passionate, feeling like the rest of the world is moot, like your veins are filled with heat, travelling through every pore of your body and the only person that can calm the flames down is Dylan and only Dylan. No one else.

And then I realise something really weird and stupid and quite frankly, scary.

I'm in love with Dylan Henderson. Former gangbanger, boy with serious attitude problems, a single sexy piercing on his lip, blonde, sexy, dangerous Dylan.

It's not sudden or dramatic or sensational. It's more like one of those little comedy light bulbs springing on top of your head. While kissing some other guy, no doubt.

All I know is that I want to be with Dylan, want to have him smile at me like I'm the only one who can make him smile that way.

The same Dylan who needs something in his life, that he's been deprived off for so many years. Love. Comfort. Warmth.

I want to be the one to give him that. To hold him and tell him that it'll be alright.

I start to pull away from Danny, but he holds on tighter.

"Danny." I whisper. "Let go."

Danny pulls away, looking down at me through dark eyes, pupils dilated.

"I...I have to go. Sorry." I whisper, starting to turn around. Danny grabs my hand.

"What? How can you say that? We're at the Winter Formal!" He sounds angry, bemused and slightly hurt.

I smile at Danny, a smile that I hope is kind, and comforting. It could be mocking and jeering, though, as far as the look Danny gives me determines anything.

"You and I both know that it isn't there. The attraction, the love. I'm sorry. I really am. I know I'm being selfish, hurting you like this, but I can't do it anymore. I hope you can forgive me in the future...but I...look, I'm sorry. I don't feel well and I have to go home." My voice sounds rehearsed and urgent. The only place I want to be right now, is in Dylan's arms, but that isn't possible. They're too full of blonde, sexy cheerleader Amanda right now.

So I'm gonna settle for home, on the sofa, with a box of cookie dough, B&J's ice-cream and a couple of re-runs of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

But Danny grabs me and pulls me back. "You can't go!" He says, as urgently as I do. Desperately, he starts kissing my neck, his arms winding around my waist, making me feel trapped. "You can't. I...I want you."

"Let her go, man." Dylan says, coming up behind us. "Before I punch you again."

I jump. Wasn't Dylan across the room, kissing his date just a few seconds ago? Did he turn into some superfast Edward Cullen, or something?

"No!" Danny murmurs, against my neck, like a little kid.

I sigh, rolling my eyes. I don't like feeling helpless, or trapped, or saved by the hero, whether I love him or not. "I can take care of myself." I insist.

Danny's arms wind tighter, and Dylan steps forwards, his face a calm mask.

Okay, this is getting ridiculous.

I jam my heel into Danny's foot. He let's go of me, screaming and grabbing his toe. "Ow, you little bitch! What the fuck?"

I roll my eyes at him. "I have to go. What part don't you understand?" Then I stop, knowing that what I'm doing is cruel and unjustifiable, no matter how possessive or stupid Danny might be. "Sorry. I hope you find someone. It's just not me. I need to go home, this isn't working for me."

Then I turn to leave.

"Celia." Dylan calls, chasing to catch up. I ignore him, staring straight ahead.

"Yo! Yeah, you with the shiny hair, and sexy dress. Look. Here." He grabs my chin and turns to face him. I glare up at Dylan defiantly. "Woah. What's up with the fire, I totally almost saved your ass there with that bastard."

"Sorry?" I splutter. "I think I just saved my _own _ass. You didn't do anything. Now, why don't you get back to your date and let me go home."

Dylan raises an eyebrow. "Right. Your going home like the misunderstood, looking-for-love heroine type that you are. Suure. You, ah, got a ride?"

I nod, hoping he doesn't pick up on the lie. "'Course."

Dylan shakes his head. "Liar."

I turn away from him again and start to walk. "Go back to Amanda, Dylan. I'll see you at home."

I hear Dylan sigh from behind me, his clear mutter, "Impossible little half-Mexican know-it-all." And then run after me again.

"I'm dropping you home, okay?"

I turn to him again, stunned. "What about your date?"

We both look to Amanda, who is chatting and giggling with her girlfriends. Probably about Dylan. Hasn't she noticed her man is kanoodling with another?

"Amanda can wait, while I drop you home. C'mon."

And then he grabs my arm and drags me towards his car, jaw set, and completely defiant.

And for some reason...I let him.

Guess I'm just losing my touch.


	30. The Deed

**I'm not gonna say anything, except that chapter was HARD! :S**

**Oh and this: Enjoy! And thanks all the reviewers! You guys are amazing! And to SOOGOOD (love the _name, _btw), because I can't respond to your reviews, (girl, what happened to the account you made? lol!) can I just say, thankyou so much for sticking with the fanfic and writing really sweet reviews! Thanks! It means alot! Also thanks to all the other AMAZING people who I can;t respond to because they've not got accounts! I love each and every review, and feed on them like a hungry lioness!**

**Now...I'm gonna go SLEEP :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own PC, ROA, or CR. Or teenagers having sex in a car, in a dark alleyway under the light of a streetlamp.**

**No hints or anything.**

Dylan

My hand is sweating on the fucking steering wheel just being with her.

And that's not good, considering a good friend of mine at school loaned me it, for the W.F. I don't think he'd appreciate my sweat marks on his car.

And I just know, it's because of Celia next to me.

It's weird: I _don't _get sweaty over _girls_.

Topless on a muscle machine workout, yeah. Taking out my fury on some poor sucker on the streets, yeah. Hell, even running around the courtyard where they supply and grow the drugs, every morning, makes me all liquid-like.

But not over a girl._ Never _over a girl.

But then again, since when has Celia _ever _been just a girl?

I gotta face the facts. She isn't just a girl and never will be.

It's tonight or never. Fuck, now I'm sweating even more, like some pig on a hot summer's day. Cool it. Breathe. Don't think about anything but breathing...In and out, in and out...

I take a right at the end of the road, my instincts taking over, suddenly.

"Thought you were taking the left street, down on Bleeker's." Celia says, her tone slightly alarmed. "Is this a shortcut."

I don't answer, 'cause I'm scared that if I do, something will come out wrong.

Celia touches my shoulder, her hands as gentle as the touch of a snowflake or something so light, you know it's there but you can't actually feel it. "Dylan?"

I pull up on the sidewalk and cut the engines, staring ahead for a second, glaring at the brick wall a few paces in front of the car.

"Dylan...are you okay?" Celia says, turning her body so she faces me completely, and looks up at me through expressive dark eyes. They shine like rare, dark jewels.

"No." I whisper. Then I clear my throat and look down at Celia. "Sorry."

"About what?" Celia asks, puzzled.

"What I'm about to do."

There's a pause, in which Celia and I stay silent. I'm the first to break it. "Does that sound weird?"

Celia smiles. "A little." Then she leans in closer. "What are you gonna do to me, Dylan."

Her expression isn't scared, violated or worried, nothing like that. Her eyes are bright with desire, her cheeks flushed. She's caught on to what I've been wanting for the past few months, and wants it too.

I cup her cheek and stroke it, softly, lingering on her skin, letting the texture take me home, where I belong. All the while, I'm looking down at this beautiful girl, who's done something to me, without me realising what.

It's like I've hit some kinda wall, it's struck me over the head. I've lost all sense of reality, but her; her smell, her face, every contour of her body. I want to spend all night learning everything about her, what makes her laugh, what makes her cry.

"Are you...a virgin?" Celia asks, softly.

I shake my head. "Do I look like a virgin?"

Celia laughs gently. "You do, now. All angelic and soft."

I lean in, lingeringly, as Celia's eyes glaze over at the proximity, and then shut, slowly. Gently, my lips graze her cheek, and she sighs.

"Are you?" I murmur, my lips moving against her skin.

She shakes her head. "No. I've done it once. Last year. I've only told Ada about it." She opens her eyes and appraises me. "It hurt. Alot. The guy I was with wasn't the most...considerate." She pauses and grins, a bitter twinge to the gesture, so it looks more like a grimace. "The transfer student. What a choice..."

I kiss her words away, not wanting to hear or see her twinge of pain, but her smile, her love and her desire.

She moans against my lips, her mouth blossoming open, like a flower, and my tongue is intertwined with hers and I'm leaning into her, and she's running her fingers through my hair, taking my weight and lying back on the seat.

Her little gasps and moans are turning me on.

"Dylan...will...will it hurt?" She whispers against my mouth, the words transferred from her to me, in an ethereal way.

I trace her face and kiss her again, and this time, it's desperate, needy. She moans and pushes herself onto me, so that we're pressed into one, and her arms are tight around me, and I'm holding her so close that it feels like we're the same.

"I promise it won't hurt. Promise." I assure her, letting fervency into my whisper, pulling back, so she can see my eyes, see the graveness and the seriousness there.

Celia nods slowly. "I...I love you, Dylan."

I stare at her for a second, waiting for the shock. The scare. The pain.

When It doesn't come, I open my mouth.

"You don't have to say it yet." Celia says hastily. "It's not a contest, on who says it first, or how fast, or how fancy. I felt it so I said it. When you feel it, you say it..." Celia smiles, a slow, heartbreaking smile that makes my insides turn into msuh. The kind babies eat. "I. Love. You. Now kiss me, again."

I do, letting her feel my breathlessness in the kiss, letting her feel the savage emotions running through me.

I want to give her my all, everything I have.

This has never happened to me before, and it's scary as well as exhilarating.

"Turn around." I whisper, trailing kisses down her neck, and feeling her moans, low and breathy reverberate through me.

I pull back and watch as she turns.

I touch the sexy knot at the top of her head, and then take out the jewelled clip, so that her beautiful, soft midnight hair falls down over her shoulders in breathtaking curls. My fingers run down her hair, and I lean in to press my face into her tresses.

"Beautiful." I whisper.

Then I push her hair over her shoulder, my face still close to hers. I can feel her stop breathing, just waiting. My breath stops short, too, as I reach for her dress zipper, and pull it down, slowly, so that the material falls over her elegant shoulders.

The dress falls completely onto the floor of the car. Celia picks it up, slowly, not facing me, and folds it, placing it on the back seats.

"Face me, Celia." I whisper, the words hardly coming out.

"I can't." Her ears are red.

"Do you trust me?"

Celia hesitates. Then she turns.

My breath leaves me completely.

I've seen her naked before, but this time it's more intimate. She's too beautiful for words, in her black, simple bra, stunning. Her curves are feminine and lush and I want to hold her tight and never let go, run my lips down her soft skin and feel every part of her intricate body.

"Your turn." She says, shyly. Leaning in close, so that I can feel her body against mine, her warmth, and her hair tickling my chin, she undoes my buttons and slips my coat and shirt off. Same with my pants, slowly and painstakingly torturously, her knuckles brushing my erection.

"You have tattoos." She whispers, leaning in to brush her fingers over them, then her mouth. It feels so good, I moan. "I never noticed."

"Gang symbols." I murmur, my eyes never leaving her. "Come up here."

She does, pressing her body close.

I reach to undo her bra the same time she slips her fingers into my boxers. The moans, groans and sighs coming from us mingle into one breath as she falls back, me onto op her, once again, against the car.

I slip her panties off and press against her, causing her breath to hitch and then groan. We're both ready, and we can't take the wait anymore.

"Condom." She breathes. I nod, reaching into the pocket of my discarded trousers, and wielding a condom.

"You want to do the honours?" I ask, gruffly, kissing down the long throat, and pressing my body close to hers. The scent of her hair does crazy things to my insides, as I stroke the long tendrils off her face, kissing every inch of her.

She takes the condom packet off me, and starts to open it. The moment it's out, it slips out of her hand and falls to the floor.

"Ack!" She exclaims, grimacing.

I grin at her, reaching for the comdom on the floor, shaking it off. Unfortunately, I fumble and the condom slides out again.

Celia, under me, grabs for it and it flips off her hand and drops against the corner of the seat we're on.

Celia starts to laugh.

I can't help but join her. It's surreal.

"We're failing at this!" Celia says, wiping her eyes. I kiss the corner of her dark smudged eyes.

"Yeah. Atleast we're failing together, though." I whisper, my grin becoming less amused, more serious. "Did I tell you, that you're beautiful."

"Yeah."

"Good."

And then I grab the condom from the corner of the seat, and it doesn't fall this time, as if it can sense the graveness orf the moment, the beauriful serious gleam in Celia's eyes as I put the condom over myself and gaze down at the gorgeous girl in my arms.

_Who'd have though that it'd be Celia Fuentes? _I think. And then I realise that I'd like it no other way.

"What are you waiting for, Grim Reaper?" Celia whispers biting her lip.

I look down at her and then I smile, for joy. In the dusty old car, dark alley and unknown place, I'm having the greatest moment of my life.

When I enter her, every boundary between us breaks at that moment, and I feel like the happiest guy in the world.


	31. Aftermath

**Update!**

**Sorry for not updating sooner, I was in Amsterdam on a school trip!**

**Thanks for sticking with this story and caring about the characters. Sorry if this chapter is a bit off, but I'm kinda tired after yesterday and bus lagged. Lol.**

**Thanks and review! :)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own PC, ROA or CR. (Which btw is delayed by three months. Fucked. I'm fucked.)**

**Will rant on about the delay in the next update, but I'm too tired now! **

**Thankyou!**

Celia

My eyes open, and I realise I'm in the most uncomfortable position ever.

Also, I had sex with Dylan.

I turn over and let out a little scream when I half fall off the seat, clutching at the dashboard, quickly. Slowly, I sit up, feeling the pleasant ache all over, and smiling slightly. I open the mirror above and look at myself. My makeup is smudged and twin spots of colour are on my cheeks, looking as if someone put their thumb in red paint, wiped half of it off and then brushed it against my cheekbones.

My hair is a birds nest.

I love it.

"Dylan?" I whisper to myself, touching my swollen lips, and feeling them stretch into a smile. "Where are you?"

No one answers.

I sigh and decide to put on my clothes, which would probably be best, in case some unsuspecting people turn on the alley and see me naked in the car, which totally wouldn't be embarrassing at all...not.

As soon as my mom's dress is on, I step outside the car, and slip on my shoes, not bothering with the fancy ribbons.

"Dylan?" I hiss softly.

Where is he?

I walk around a bit, trying to ease the crumpled state of my body, without wanting to ease the slow delicious ache in my body. Sighing, I stretch and walk over to the corner. No one's there.

I'm not gonna let the doubtful emotions come. Not going to think about what Dylan thought of me last night. He loves me. I saw it in his eyes.

So why isn't he here, with me now?

He didn't run away from me, did he?

Feeling a new ache in my body, centred around the chest, I walk back towards the car, and slip inside. I don't know what to do with it, it's not mine. Who should I return it to?

Dylan did _not_ just leave me in the middle of a shady old alley, sleeping alone and naked. He wouldn't do that.

He made love to me. We made love.

He couldn't have ran away.

I swallow, and sit back against the seat noticing the keys in the ignition. Biting my lip, I turn the key and the car rumbles to life.

I turn it off and sit back, waiting for Dylan. Trying not to let any negative emotions rise up in me, like the always do.

_You're panicking, being stupid. Maybe he's gone to get you breakfast or something._

But my mind- my stupid worried, pessimistic mind- argues back.

_He wouldn't leave you alone in an alley, stark naked. He wouldn't._

_Would he?_

I wait for what feels like, forever. An hour, two hours.

How could he have gotten away? Where is he?

I swallow back a lump and look at the time. It's ten thirty in the morning. Mom and Dad would be worrying.

I sigh. _I'll be in for a_ _grounding the moment I set foot at home._

Maybe Dylan's at home.

_Maybe he's ditched you._

I bite my lip hard, so that blood comes out. The salty taste, makes me think of tears. One tear slips out, and I turn to the passenger seat, and touch it. It's warm, from our bodies. How can it still be warm.

Then I notice the note.

I reach across and pick it up, so slow. I have a feeling that it's not going to be good, but I read it anyway:

_Celia,_

_Thanks for the fuck._

_See yah in hell._

_Dylan._

_PS: You weren't as good as Amanda. Sorry._

My eyes scan the paper over and over again.

It's his writing. He wrote it.

Tears overflow me as I read the words over and over again. I rip the paper apart and chuck it into the backseat.

Then I set the car into ignition and drive home. Fast.


	32. Hostage

Dylan

"Tell me where the money is and I'll let you go alive." The guy gives me a leery grin. There are black bits stuck in between his teeth. "Pinkie swear."

"I'll give _you _the fuckin' swear of your life, you bastard! Let me go!" I snarl, trying to let go of the crude bits of rag that are restraining me from moving.

It was an hour ago that I woke up and looked down to see Celia sleeping in my arms. I was the happiest damn guy in the world.

And now I'm gonna die like my family. And Celia won't have any happy memories of me; none at all. Just the crappy little note I left on the seat of the beat up car I fucked her in, saying that she means nothing to me and that some plastic-y cheerleader who displays her fanny to the world the same way she does her gluttonous boobs to anyone who's willing, was better than her.

"Mouthy are we? You should have thought of that before you decided to stalk us didn'tcha? Thought you could kill us! Shoulda know we'd drag you out, sonny. Or are you just as stupid as your father, thinkin' just 'cause you went off all pure and new, you'd come out completely untan'ed? Think you're invincible?"

I'm not invincible. But, all I knew at the time- the moment I woke up and saw them walking down the alley- all I could _see _was the dead, burnt twisted crusty things lying in the shambles of what once was our house.

They killed my family. My house. What was my life.

It wasn't the best life, but it was one.

So I wrote a note to Celia, so she wouldn't follow me and get involved. And ran after them with my knife.

Oh shit.

The note.

The fuckin' note.

I don't regret it. Not one bit, because It will save her and her family. I can't drag her down like this. Not this way.

No matter how much it hurts.

I try to block the images of her face after seeing the note, but I can't. And it hurts even more to think that I know what her face looks like when her heart's completely crushed, because I've caused it too many times before-

One of the guys smacks me round the face, so suddenly, I don't have time to prepare. My tooth jams into the side of my mouth, drawing blood.

Next to a suavely polished shoe.

I look up.

Horth is grinning down at me, his gray hair oiled back, and slick. He's wearing a black suit.

"Didn't I tell you, you made a mistake? Didn't I tell you that I'd find you wherever you go?" Horth says eyebrows raised. "When little boys don't listen to their elders, they get punished."

"How did you get out of jail?" I whisper, my mouth swollen over the words, making them muffled.

"I'll leave that for you to imagine. Let's just say I have reinforcements. But enough of me, let's talk about you, yes? You, Henderson, are in _deep_ shit, as they say. Because, you refusing that drug deal I offered you, remember that? Yeah? Well, you refusing it was, as it turns out one of the biggest mistakes you have _ever _made in your _life. _Because as well as refusing, you bought attention to that do-gooder Fuentes, who's generously taken you in."

Horth pauses. Then says, "Did you know he used to be in a gang, too? The _Gurreros del Barrios, _and then affiliations with Wes Devlin's gang. He used to be as tortured and bad as you. Lucky for him, he got away with it. It won't be so simple for you. Wanna know why, son?"

I glare at Horth. I knew the man was bad, but he was the reason my parents died...my whole family.

I shake my head, savagely. "All I wanna know is how you fuckin' got away with murdering my parents and sisters without getting the fucking death penalty! You deserve it, you bastard! My family! All for a bunch of money that ain't gonna last you shit!"

Horth smirked. "They were debts that your father owed and he refused to pay them back in the time I allotted him. Sorry if you didn't figure it out, or your old man passed the stupidity down. I even gave you a chance, Henderson, with that drug deal. But you failed me. You've never said no to me before, and I figured that, yeah, you _were_ maybe the smart one-"

"Damn you!"

"...Unfortunately that privilege will be at your hands. And then with you off, your sister can repay her father's debts. I hear my men like blondes."

I narrow my eyes at him. What the fuck? "I have no sister, old man. You offed both of them."

Horth looks at me, oddly, his own black eyes as narrowed as mine, into slits that cut across his wrinkled face, and look like deep cuts or slashes of paint. Then he throws his head back and laughs.

"As if you weren't as clueless as you are already!" Horth chuckles. There's genuine humour in his face, as if he enjoys pain like others might enjoy a night out on Saturday.

"What. Are. You. Talking. About?" I say through gritted teeth. But something like a chokehold is slowly squeezing in my chest, and words and voices are going through my head. It's like those times when I've tried to remember names of characters and gotten so close to figuring them out, but can't; standing on the edge of a steep cliff, wanting to fall, but unable to muster the strength.

"Ever heard of a Miss Adaleine Williams? She goes to your school. Blonde hair, green eyes. She looks like you, you know. She's about a year younger than you, but she's in your year because when she was younger, about twelve or so, just after the tragic death of her poor parents, she developed Amnesia, and completely forgot every ordeal. Her grades surpassed all of those in her year and she was moved up, immediately, by her foster parents and teachers, who's main intention was to immerse her in so much work that it'd enhance her amnesia and she'd lead a new life devoid of all the horrors she went through previously in her years..." Horth stops abruptly and takes in a deep, dramatic breath. "Aaaand...done."

Adaleine, my sister was not alive. Horth was lying, he was crazy enough to. "You're sick, you know that?" I hiss.

"Don't believe me? Do I have to show you? Very well." Horth says. Then he clicks his fingers, like some sort of Master and two guys in black nod, turning around and into the trees. Horth grins at me, in a mock parody of amiability, and raises a finger at me to wait.

When the two guys return, they're manhandling a girl, who, true to Horth's word, has long, straight blonde hair, and green eyes. A gag is in her mouth and the moment she looks up at me, her eyes fill up with tears, as well as widening with disbelief.

My jaw drops as I look at my sister in the face, and I wonder how right Horth is in saying that I was stupid.

Celia's best friend, Ada, looks right back at me.


	33. Discoveries

**Update!**

**Okay, has anyone seen the extract of Chain Reaction on Simone Elkeles's facebook page? AHHHHHH! I'm not gonna spoil anything about the first two chapter, but OH MY GOD that woman knows how to make me gouge my eyes out in anticipation! Damn, and It's not even coming out soon enough!**

**Anyway, though, totally check it out, 'cause it's definitely worth reading! **

**I think I love Luis, too. I can just tell...call it foreboding. ;)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own PC, ROA or CR...but I wish I did! (And also Luis...and Nikki. Who I KNOWI will love! EEEEEE!)**

Celia

I burst through the door, the moment I unlock it, and stumble into the house, only to run into dad's chest as I do.

He steadies me, and pushes me away, gently, holding onto my shoulders and looking into my face. "_Mija, _how was your sleepover with Ada?"

I blink up at him, confused, the haze in my mind saying only one name, filled with only one thought. Suddenly, I rise through it all and remember telling my parents that if I didn't come home, it was probably because I'd be over at Ada's.

"Uh...yeah, it was good. Dad, have you seen Dylan, recently?"

Dad frowns. "No. He didn't come home at night, either. I assumed it was 'cause he was out doin' somethin' or another, with his friends. Why? What is it?"

I can't show him the note. Dad would flip. But then again...what if something's happened?

I refuse to believe that Dylan has left me like this. Last night, he was so sweet, so tender, and clichéd or not, I _saw _the love in his eyes.

So why did he do this?

I look up at dad, who's looking down at me, have amused half concerned. "You alright, _Querida_? Feelin' okay?" He puts his hand on my forehead, checking my temperature, reminding me of when I was a little girl and he used to do that.

I can't help it; I start to cry.

"Celia?" Dad says, fully concerned now. He scoops me up into his arms and strakes my hair, tenderly. "What is it, baby? Was it that _pendejo _who took you out to the Formal? Did he do somethin' to hurt you?"

I shake my head, swallowing down big gulps and trying not to sob.

"The what is it? _Tu sabe que me puede decir nada, cariño." _Dad murmurs, kissing the top of my head.

"I know, dad." I whisper. "It's...it's Dylan. Something's wrong with him. He left me...well, okay..." I wipe my eyes and clear my throat, looking up at him, through clear eyes, which feel puffy and red. "Dad...don't flip out, okay? But Dylan and I made love last night and-"

"You _what?" _Dad exclaims, gripping me harder on the shoulders. "_Lo que carajo!"_

I sigh. "Dad, don't swear. Maria's just next door."

Dad, however, is on a roll. And everyone knows that when dad is upset, he starts talking in Spanish. "I don't care! _No puedo creer __que tuvieron relaciones sexuales con él, esto es completamente diferente a ti, _Cecilia_, no puedo creer que hayas hecho esto! Usted está en tantos problemas, señorita!"_

I sigh. "Dad. Calm it for a second. I'm almost eighteen, it's natural...let it go. Besides, it's not important-"

"Not important! Celia, you screwed that...that _pendejo, _and then you expect me to be completely cool 'bout it all? When...I thought you were at Ada's!"

"Dad, sorry. Look, just listen to me, it's important!" I say, exasperated. "I think something's happened to Dylan!"

Dad looks as if someone's pumped him with helium gas. "Something's definitely gonna happen to him, let me tell you, that little bastard. Screwing my daughter like that, I'll fuckin' kill him. Where is he?"

I glare at dad. "That's the thing. I. Don't. Know."

Dad looks affronted. "Whatdayah mean you don't know?"

"He...disappeared. Afterward." I clear my throat, trying not to let tears come up.

Dad looks seriously mad now. "He fucked you and then upped and went?" He mutters, looking scary. I can see why people were afraid of him, some still are. When dad's mad, he's _mad._

"I know. And it doesn't make sense. I know it seems so rushed to you, dad, and I know you don't like him, but...I do. I think I love him." I swallow and then wait for the outburst. The spluttering and the Spanish.

Instead, dad just looks down at me, eyebrows raised in half worry half surprise. He doesn't look mad anymore, It seems his heat has evaporated into the surroundings, replaced with wariness...and maybe a case of 'I knew this was coming' syndrome.

"Celia...I. Look, I want to tell you that he's a scumbag, and that he can't possibly love you back. That you should move on. But I don't...I don't actually think I'm in a position to be sayin' anything' like that. Especially seein' as how I got your mom. Just...are you sure you love him, _mija?"_

"These feelings aren't fake. I'm sure about that." I say, firmly.

Dad sighs. "Then let's go find the dumbass and see what's goin' on." He pauses. "But, baby, if he's not willin' to listen or to come back...well, that might happen. Don't put your heart into it."

I nod, grateful that dad isn't flipping out or promising death threats or anything. Which is kinda why I told him. Dad may be hot headed and overprotective sometimes, but I can rely on him to help me in situations that count.

In other words: I have the best dad in the world. Period.

I hug dad, tight, and he strokes my hair, softly. "When did my little _hija _grow up?" He whispers.

I pull away, rolling my eyes, but smiling. "Dad..."

Dad chuckles. "Come on. Where do you think he'll be, in this vast state, huh? He can't have got far-"

The phone interrupts him, chirping a merry tune.

Estelle picks it up in the other room.

"Hello?" She says into the receiver. I try to smile at her as I reach for the keys, but she refuses to meet my eyes.

Suddenly, she stops short, and drops the receiver. It hits the tiles with a clang.

Dad rushes over to Estelle, concerned. "Baby, what is it?"

Estelle starts to cry, and I'm immediately alarmed. "Estelle?" I say, running up to her, and trying to reach for her chin, turn it to face me and dad, who's looking panicked now.

"It's him again." She whispers. "He's got Dylan."

"Who?" I say, urgently. "Who's got Dylan, Estelle?"

Estelle bites her lip. "The same guy who threatened to kill us all earlier this week. He grabbed me on the street and threatened that If I didn't hand over Dylan's whereabouts then he'd burn our house down!"

Dad freezes, his whole stance completely rigid, like an ice-sculpture.

"Who is this guy, Estelle?" He murmurs. But I can tell by his sudden decrease in colouring that he _knows._

"Horth. William Horth."


	34. Vulnerability

**Update!**

**Thankyou soooo much to all the awesome reviewers. You don't know what it means to me, to get such SEXY reviews (!) and I really appreciate them. Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed every SINGLE update (or most of them). You know who you are.**

**Yokoku loves you ;)**

**Before I start to sound like a weirdo OSCAR winner wannabe, most of you have been asking for a link from Chain Reaction, and I've been trying to reply to those of you with an account, but some of you don;t have one! And you can't go away without reading it...TRUST ME!**

**So: /bloomsbury/docs/chainreaction**

**ENJOY IT AS MUCH AS I DID! I DARE YOU! :)**

**So...thankyou for reviewing you awesome, awesome, people.**

**Also, this update may be ahem...a little violent. And I know, I know, I sound stupid, 'cause most of you are probably OLDER than me. But I think I should put a tiny little warning to say that if you DON'T like reading even a little bit of violence, than there is some in here- you can either skip it or be warned. But it's not that bad, trust me.**

**Just thought I should put that on, in case. Will stop rambling now, before this becomes LONGER than the FANFICTION ITSELF!**

**Disclaimer: You know what I don't own. It's too painful to repeat it again and again and again ;)**

Dylan

What. The. Fuck?

I stare at Ada for a whole minute, as the shock registers through my body. It feels like my nerves are on fire, painful, and I need to get away from everything just to feel normal again.

Ada's own eyes reflect mine, I'm sure of it. They're alight with fear and the fucking irony of it all.

_How could I have missed this? How could we all have missed this? They have the same friggin' name!_

But I know why- we've all been so preoccupied with ourselves, that we haven't noticed what's in front of us. I guess I can't speak for Ada, with her amnesia. But I can see it all come back to her, the tears pooling in her green eyes, a shade lighter than mine.

Horth claps his hands. "Right! Family reunion over! Get in the Jag." He points to a pristine XKR, and pushes us in. There's not much we can do about it.

"Take us to the Fuentes household, down on Rockefellend street. I need to show my two lovely protégés about the dangers of playing with fire...not that they don't already know." Horth says to his beefy henchman, who's taken the wheel.

"_Don't you fucking _dare_ bring them into this!" _I warn, through teeth so gritted it hurts.

Horth ignores me.

I clasp my fingers into the palm of my hands, my nails digging in so tight, my anger on Horth channels itself into the pain.

The car starts, and we set off- Ada and I are in the back, Horth and his bastard/cronie driving. I feel sick to the stomach. I'll kill him before he touches a hair on Celia or her family's head, but I know I can't. I glare through narrowed eyes, wishing that looks could do more than kill- could maim, torture or fuckin' castrate the guy.

But they can't.

Time seems to pass so slowly, and I turn to Ada, who's got her eyes closed. Tears are spilling down her cheeks, rapidly.

It's odd, know that I've finally discovered my sister, we have no time together.

Images of burning houses scour me, and I feel vertigo straight up slap me round the head. I'm gonna fucking pass out.

I think of Celia, smiling at me, trusting me. I wonder if Mr. F knew that taking me in would end in this.

"Don't worry." Horth assures us, his voice mocking and liltingly jeering. "Once your little family are gone, I'll deal with your adoptive parents." He glares at Ada, blinking over and over, like a little girl, his smile, like a madman's. "And then we'll make use of _you_, my dear. How about we put those perky little assets of yours to the test, eh? My boys would _love _to have a play around with a fine bird like you. Maybe add your little friend- Carlos's daughter- in with it, save her for last. What can I say, my men love Latinas. It would serve Carlos right. And you can watch, Dylan!"

"If you even think about..." I begin.

"Oh but I have. When are you going to learn that bringing people into your life isn't going to get rid of the pain? It'll just hurt them. Now, hopefully after all this, you'll learn your lesson and get me my money."

"You fucking bastard!" I growl, my eyes stinging. But swearing or yelling won't help.

I think of Estelle, who I never got to say sorry to. Little Maria with her big brown eyes; Mrs. Fuentes, her big smile and enthusiasm. I even think of Mr. Fuentes, with his protectiveness, and that faith, which sometimes leaks into his voice when he talks to me, his occasional grudging respect, and love for his family.

I had my chance to be a part of his family. Instead, I ended up killing them. All of them.

I don't let myself think of the last member, the one who's probably thinking I betrayed her, or worse, right now.

The car stops and Horth's voice rings in my ear. "Take him out boys. Leave the girl inside. You know what to do." And then he says to me, "First a little beating, Dylan, to remind you of who's boss. Then we'll set fire to the house...and you can watch and do nothing about it, yet again."

I spit at his face.

Horth snarls and leaps back. I'm seized by a grim satisfaction for a nano-second, before a fist slams into the side of my face, sending me sprawling to the ground. My head hits concrete.

I hear laughs, jeers, as I try to get up, not succumb to the dancing spots playing in my vision, but it's damn hard.

Another fist, slamming into the other side of my head. I taste blood, and spit it out onto the ground. Try to get up again, but someone knocks me to the ground. There's a small pressure on my legs, deepening until it becomes unbearable. The pin spreads, until I hear a crack.

My scream is lost in the sound of laughter. I hear a voice call, "Don't kill him, I want him to see his family burnt to shreds. And try and get Fuentes out, I want them both to witness the rape of his daughter and her friend in front of his eyes. Both of them must be alive."

I try to get up again, to scream something, anything. To tell Horth that I hate him with every ounce of my being, that If he burns my family alive, I'll torture him over and over again, mindlessly, until he screams for mercy, or if he gets his filthy hands on either my sister, or the girl I love, that I'll pummel him into tiny pieces and make him watch. But I can't, because this is reality. And it hurts.

Someone- some_thing_- kicks me to the ground and continues kicking me from all sides. I choke and try to curl up on myself, but it doesn't help.

I feel darkness come up on me.

The last thing I see before I succumb to it, is her face. Smiling at me. Ready for me to kiss her, tell her I love her and that I'll never leave her.

It's more painful than anything alse.


	35. Home

**Update! Thanks so much for the awesome reviews! Enjoy guys!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own PC, ROA or CR**

Celia

The traffic is too fucking slow.

"Dad, hurry up!" I say, through gritted teeth, clasping my hands together, tight, so that my nails bite against the skin of my palms.

"I can't! Believe me, I'm trying to skip the cars!" Dad responds, equally as agitated.

We're going to the alleyway in the main city, where Dylan and I last left off. Thinking about that night is too painful for me, so instead I think about the note. The note he left me, which was so harsh, cruel and hurtful...it couldn't have been Dylan out of his own free will, could it?

I sigh, hard, letting the breath rush through my nostrils.

"Just, honk!" Estelle in the back, instructs, biting her lip hard. I glance back at her and give her a comforting smile, trying my best to ease the fear and pain on her face, with my sisterly condolence, but it doesn't help that much.

"What'll that do?" Dad demands. "Just irritate the drivers, make them mad so they go even slower for me? No thanks."

Where's a helicopter when you need one?

Suddenly the phone rings, making Estelle jump, and dad cut off from his torrent of swear words, referring to Colorado and the idiocy of 'white people' and their 'stupid traffiky ways.'

Callum's face shows up on my caller ID.

I whip my phone open and press it to my ear, urgently. "Wassup, Callum?" I blurt, glaring at the back of the driver's head in front of me, _willing_ him to move. He doesn't. Bastard.

"Hey, Celes. Listen, have you heard from Ada? I tried calling her home phone and cell today, but she wouldn't pick up and her mom told me she was at your house." Callum's voice sounds slightly anxious.

I bite my lip. "Um, no. She's not here." I say vaguely, my mind whirring.

"You sure."

"Definitely. Otherwise, I'd kinda know if she was. Where'd you guys leave off?"

I hear Callum sigh on the phone. "On her driveway. I thought she'd go inside but her mom just told me she didn't come home at all."

My heart clenches. Literally. As if someone reached inside and squeezed.

"How...she's not here, Cal." I say, forebodingly, biting my lip, hard. Dad turns his head, slightly, puzzled.

"What's wrong?" He mutters, as we inch forward a little bit, and then stop with a jolt.

"It's Ada." I tell him. _I will not cry. She's probably at one of our friend's house. Emile's or Tina's._

But wouldn't she have answered her cell? She always answers her cellphone.

"Callum I have to go. Talk later." I say, quickly.

"But, Cel-"

I hang up before he can finish and slip my phone back into my pocket. "Ada's gone." I say, hoarsely.

Dad frowns, and the car inches a little bit more. I feel sick, and my stomach is hurting. Dylan and Ada are in trouble. I know it. I can _feel_ it!

Okay, I can't feel it; but something is definitely wrong, and it's scaring me.

"How can she be gone? Where?" Dad says, capturing my attention.

"I don't know." I say miserably. "But I'm scared."

Estelle shudders. I can hear it all the way up front. "I know. Me too. What if that drug dealer guy's done something really bad?" She lets off a frustrated sigh. "If only I'd have told you guys about this, before, instead of being quite...or worse. Crying! I'm so stupid!"

I can't blame Estelle, I've been as stupid as her, missing all the signs. Of course, she wasn't fucking in _love _with Dylan. Estelle isn't a cryer, she's a fighter. If she cries, it's for a reason, and definitely _not _over a boy. I should have sat her down and asked her, properly. Sought her out, made her my main priority.

Instead, I chose to ignore it. Underestimate my baby sister, casting it off as love.

Shame floods through me, like scalding liquid. I feel wrenched.

"You're not, _mija."_ Dad soothes. "We'll find 'em. Trust me."

I wish I could.

Suddenly, my phone rings again, and I twist to pick it up. When I do, though, I realise that it's not mine, but my dad's.

"Here, Cele, take it." Dad says, passing me his phone. I put it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Cecilia my darling! Or is this Estelle?" The male voice on the other end is unrecognisable.

"Celia. Who is this?" I say, pressing the phone harder to my ear. Dad shoots me an odd look, but says nothing.

"A good friend of your father's. I was hoping he'd pick up, but anyway. I'm sure you're a prudent young woman, dear. You'll understand what I tell you, right?" He sounds velvety and charming, but there's something sinister laced at the end of his words.

"Who are you?" I repeat.

"That doesn't matter, dear. Just that you come back to your house in time to see the spectacle. I promise you it'll be good."

"What are you talking about? Who _are _you?" I say, my voice trembling.

Dad is focussing on the cars in front of him, but I can tell his ears are on hypersensitive overdrive.

"Cut the 'who are you' crap, and listen, okay, bitch?" The man says, his tone altering into a clipped, steely one. "I want you to come home now, with your dad. I got your boyfriend, your best friend, and when your mom and baby sisters come back from whatever active shit they're into right now, I'll have 'em too. _Comprende?"_

The phone cuts.

"Who was it?" Estelle is the first to ask, nudging my shoulder. I move rigidly, like a stick. I feel like one, frozen and hard, devoid of everything.

I gulp and say, "Horth. That was Horth. And he has Dylan, Ada, Mom and Maria. At home."

Dad curses, and turns the car round, at an opportunistic U-turn, making our bodies take a whirlwind.

"Where are we going!" Estelle exclaims.

"Home." Dad says, darkly.


	36. The Burning

**A short update, which probably isn't that good, but ah well ;)**

**Thanks to all the awesome reviewers who deem this story better than I deem it and my awesome inboxers and people who recommend me their AWESOME fanfictions (and then leave me hanging when they don't UPDATE! ;) You know who you are, cough. Ariel Mermaid, cough, MissMarauder.**

**Oh well...I'll just have to wait for them to update their awesome fanfictions which I will totally not name, (cough, The Cycle Starts Again, cough, SPEAK!)- seriously, check them out...they're SO GOOD!**

**Also, thanks to the people who recommend songs for this fiction, because it makes me feel really tingly inside when you do! I do that kind of thing to books that I have read and loved, so I think it's a real honour. Thankyou on my part.**

**So...a few more chapters and it's the end. Finis. Or is it...?**

**I'm thinking of doing a story about Alex and Brittany's (made up) daughter, Isa. The one who kissed Dylan...remember? No? Yes? Any heads up on whether I should do it or is one ff enough? Also, If so the burning question WHAT SHOULD I CALL IT? XD**

**Thankyou to all you awesome people who review (even the one's who critisise. I take it with a good heart...promise!)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own PC, ROA or CR**

Dylan

I'm hoisted up so abruptly, my head starts spinning.

I feel sick; I'm gonna throw up. Shit.

I crouch back on the floor and hurl, emptying disgusting bile onto the gravel. One eye is swollen shut, but I can see through the other one. Horth has clasped Ada to him, smiling coldly, as his hand creeps down her jeans, ignoring her kicks and punches.

Fury rages through me, and he vision through my good eye tunnels red, as I propel myself upwards, ignoring the slashes of pain that shoot through my body and limp towards Horth, as fast as I can.

"Get _off _her!" I snarl, my voice scratchy.

Horth smiles wider, his face impassive and cold. There's a bulge in his pants as he runs his fingers under Ada's jeans. I feel sick again, but this time, it's combined with my fury.

_I'm gonna kill him. _

Ada's crying, tears brimming down her cheeks. I can see the gag biting into her skin.

_I'm going to kill him._

Horth turns to me, his eyes so cold, I can feel them seep through me. "I'm gonna kill you, Horth." I say, croakily.

Horth snaps his free fingers, and summons one of his muscle guards to kick me back down. I feel it, of course I do, but I don't care. I get back up again, my vision focused on Horth and Ada.

"Get off her." I say again, my voice barely recognizable. "Get off. Get your hand off..."

The guy kicks me again. This time I fall to the floor.

"Let me tell you a little something about life, Dylan." Horth says, his smile progressing into a Cheshire grin that makes me want to kick him, hurt him, rake his body with nails, over and over again, until he screams for mercy. "Its. A. Bitch."

Someone kicks me in the ribs again, and I double over. I hear Ada scream, but I can't do anything about it, because my vision turns black, spots appearing in my line of sight.

Someone else screams. My name.

I recognize the voice, but when I open my eyes, all I can see it rough gravel against my nose. I can feel myself choke on something, and when I spit it out, it's red...the metallic tang telling me that it's blood.

Tears funnel my vision, my eyes brimming over. Taking in a shuddering gasp, I spit again, and again, trying not to let the blood choke me. Sweat falls into my eyes and stings them.

Then a masculine growl. I look up through squinted eyes to see Horth staring at something beyond, his hand is out of Ada's pants, and he's smiling.

"Hello." He says. "Nice to see you, Fuentes. And your daughters. My, how they've...grown."

_Mr. F. And Celia. She's here._

I try to turn, crane my body around, but before I can do that, cool hands are cupping my face. They feel so good.

Water falls down my cheek, and I wince as it runs down my cuts. Is it raining salty liquid.

"Dylan...what happened?" Celia whispers. My eyes close as I realise it's not raining; the water is from her tears.

I don't want her to see me like this, to cry over me like this.

"Celia..." I whisper.

"Don't say anything. You'll be fine, but you look seriously hurt. God, I can't believe this!" She mutters urgently. "How...how did this happen?"

I heave slightly, as she wraps her arms around me and pulls me close. Her body feels soft and warm. I inhale her clean scent, just a hint of jasmine and something else that rings as Celia and Celia only. My Celia.

I love her. And I'm gonna die.

I never got the chance to tell her.

I hear a scream and then a gunshot. My eyes clasp shut.

Celia jolts, slightly. "Ada!" She whispers in a pained gasp.

I force my eyes to open and look up at Celia, who's looking ahead, her eyes wide with terror and alarm. She should let me go...run away.

I open my mouth to tell her that, but suddenly she gasps, and the sound is filled with so much horror, that I crane my head towards the house and look for myself.

Fire. The house is on fire. My house. Our house.

I hear Mr. F yell something, and then a car stopping. The door opening, and then feminine screams.

Still, Celia doesn't let me go. She stays with me.

New tears fall onto my face, as Celia clasps me tight. I open my mouth to say, "Go. Run. Call the police."

Celia looks down at me. "They're coming. Dad has Horth. Everything's gonna be fine, Dylan." But her voice is strained, and sad.

"You're house."

"Fire ambulance is coming. We can get a new house. But no new you or Ada." He gives me a teary wink. "I love you. So much. You know that?"

I do.

She leans in and kisses me, and I have a feeling she's trying to drown out the sounds and heat of the crackling flames that's burning her home down, her life and possessions.

All because of me.


	37. THE END!

**One more epilpogue and then BAM! We're done :(**

**I can't believe it!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own PC, ROA or CR**

Celia

The moment the Police cars arrive, half the house is burnt, and I can barely see through my tears.

It's like a blur, when the Police cops come and arrest Horth. He's kicking and punching at the men, like he really expected to ruin us and get away with it.

Finally, he's shoved into the Police car. Dad tells me he's been sentenced for life, and then some other things, but I can barely hear him over the roaring in my ears.

The Fire Engine comes, and hoses our house down and I'm holding onto Dylan the whole time. Our house isn't flaming, now, but it looks worse, all black and cracked, the windows singed off.

I'm holding Dylan's hand, never letting go the whole way. When the Ambulance arrives, turn by turn, I'm still clutching Dylan's hand. Ada is on the other side of him, looking down at him with a concerned expression, silent tears streaming down her face.

I mean to ask her why she was even involved in this, but I sense she needs space.

Dad, Mom, Estelle and Maria are all with me, when Dylan is carted into Intensive Care, and that's when we're told to back off, away from him, and let him be operated on- he has rib fractures, multiple broken bones in his legs and a serious concussion.

We wait...and wait. It takes forever.

Ada clutches my hand in hers, and gives me a small smile.

I smile back at her. "Why...?" I say, croakily, ending my question with an inquiring pause. She's my best friend...she understands.

She takes in a deep breath, and let's it out. "He's my brother, Cele."

I blink, and see spots of red. Nodding slowly, my head pounding, I look away from her. I'll ask her later. Right now, nothing makes much sense.

A nurse comes out of the small room where Dylan was, and we all stand up. "He needs a few weeks rest. You can all come back and visit him tomorrow. Right now, he's being put under intensive rest."

Dad nods, warily, and we all trudge out of the hospital. "Guess we need to start looking for a new house."

"You can all stay at mine. Mom'll understand." Ada says. "I need to ask her a couple of questions anyway."

Mom and Dad are too tired to disagree. It's shown on their faces. Not physically tired, but I know that Horth has mentally worn them out.

By the time we get to Ada's house, I'm half asleep. I greet Mr. And Mrs. Williams, as my parents go through everything that just happened, bit by bit. I'm so tired.

But when my head actually hits the pillow, I can't fall asleep.

* * *

"You can come see him now." The nurse says, giving me a friendly wink as I stand outside the I.C unit.

Should I wink back?

I smile at her and follow through to the I.C room and see Dylan lying on the hospital bed, his face pale, and his blonde hair splayed on the pillow.

His green eyes are assessing my every move; he looks wary, and tired, like everyone else.

"Hey." He croaks. "Where are the 'rents?"

"Looking for a new house."

Dylan looks drawn the moment I say this. I didn't expect any less from him...of course he's gonna be miserable about this.

"It's not your fault." I say quietly. "It isn't, so don't you dare blame yourself."

He gives me an incredulous look, but says nothing, playing instead with his sheet.

I sit on the perch next to him, and stroke down his hair. When he pulls away, I place my hand back. Even though, the gesture hurt. Like a bitch.

"Ada?" I say.

"She's a long lost sister of mine." He grunts back. Then he sighs. "Guess I have someone in my family, alive. Can't believe I didn't figure it out, though. Guess I was too preoccupied, with...stuff."

A jolt of shock runs through me- Ada is Dylan's sister. Oddly, the only thing that comes to mind is how akin to a soap opera we are right now.

"Same here." I sigh, glumly.

"Sucks doesn't it? All I wanted to do was find peace. Instead I ruin the lives of the only family I ever had." Dylan mutters.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Who turned you into Mr. Melodramatic? The only thing that's ruined is our house, and we can always get another one!" When he doesn't answer, I take his face into my hands and make his look up at me. "I love you, Dylan. Do you still love me?"

"How can you fuckin' still love me! I fucking hurt your family, your best friend, your house and everything in between!"

"Do. You. Still. Love. Me?" I say to him, firmly. "Tell me."

"Of Course!" Dylan says through gritted teeth. "You're _everything_! You're my friggin' sun! How can anyone not fall in love with you, Cecilia? You're beautiful, and sexy. You're an excellent sister, and you always have to have your way. You can't dance...trust me, _or _cook! You like to be bossy, and you're stubborn as hell. You can't sing, either. Or walk in heels. But damn it, when you _smile _at me, it feels like my hearts gonna explode from _oh, fuck _overload!"

"You do everything with the utmost concentration- even sex!" He adds. "You love Desperate Housewives and F.R.I.E.N.D.S and you got curves that guys only dream about. You're so beautiful, sometimes it hurts, you love your mom and dad so much, sometimes I wish I had a mom or a dad to love that much, you can't spell words that your sister in the first-grade can, and you can throw a snowball like a bitch!"

He sucks in a deep breath. "And then you fucking go and ask me if I _love _you?"

I bite my lip, completely dazed from information overload- stuff that I didn't even know about myself!. "Is that a no then?"

Dylan gives me a glare, and then stretches up to press his lips fiercely against mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing tight, and running my hands through his soft hair.

"Of course I do, stupid." He mutters against my mouth, his tongue snaking out to trace the outside shape of my bottom lip, "I love you."

Tears flood my eyes, as he says this, and I pull away, and rest my head against his chest. "Idiot. You could have just said it."

"I wanted to be dramatic."

"It worked." I whisper, my face turning to his warmth.

He pulls the blanket over both of us, and kisses me, again.

"So," I say. "You, ah, gonna stick around for a while. I mean, after we move all the things in the house not affected by the fire. And...find a new house."

"If your dad doesn't want to slice me open and rip my guts out." Dylan kisses my nose. "It was my fault, Celia. I'm so sorry. I bought Horth to you, hunted him down to you."

I clasp my hand over his mouth. "He's gone now. It's over. And dad will accept that you didn't have any fault in this. You were a little boy when your parents died, and it wasn't fair that you and Ada had to lose them like this." I kiss him again. "It's not your fault. And you have a family now."

When Dylan kisses me again, it feels like the whole world has tilted on its axis, and my heart finally feels...good. Not in the healthy way, but the lovey-dovey kind of way books talk about.

His lips trail down my neck and I let off an exalted laugh. "How can you do this? Aren't your legs kinda dead at the minute?"

"I'm conquering it out of love." Dylan declares, valiantly.

"Ahem." There's a sound outside, and we both freeze. I peek out the hospital sheet to see half the people from our school standing at the door. Including Amanda. And Ada.

Face flushed, I step out of the bed, petting my hair. Dylan grins, full of male satisfaction.

Ada smiles, displaying dimples. It reminds me of the time when we were in our preteens, sitting in the library, reading books about sex-ed.

"It seems we shouldn't disturb the lingering lovers." Callum says, wrapping an arm around Ada.

"How're you feeling, Dylan?" Ada says.

"Great." Dylan responds, grinning back.

I guess our friends from school think it's okay to make headway after this; they crowd Dylan, tittering and fussing over him. As they do, Ada walks over to me.

"You are stupid." She says to me, wrapping an arm around my neck.

"I know." I respond, glumly. "How could we _not _have figured out the you were his sister. You had the same friggin' names!"

"You knew. I didn't. Can't blame a girl for amnesia."

"Does that mean I can't blame you for borrowing my Paramore CD and misplacing?"

Ada nods, wisely. "Yup."

I whack her on the head. "Shuttup."

Oh yeah. It's gonna be fine. And this time, there's not foreshadowing, when I think this- there's just happiness.


	38. Epilogue

**Epilogue!**

**I just want to say, sorry if this seems bad or rushed. I just can't do epilogue's that well!**

**Well! It's over! I don't want this to seem to award-showish, but I really am grateful to all the amazing reviews. You guys are seriosuly awesome and I love you all for reviewing and liking this story! I hope you liked Dylan and Celia's characters. Fingers crossed Simone'll actually do a book like this! How awesome would that be?**

**So, yeah. Thanks guys, for sticking through it all- you know who you guys are! You rock!**

**Thankyou. So much.**

**I hope you enjoy this and I'm glad that I was able to create some new characters and a plotline that you liked!**

25 years later

"What do you mean there's a girl coming to stay at our house!" Dylan Henderson says to his wife of twenty years.

"I mean, she's a former gang member who needs our help. We gotta pass on the tradition!" Celia responds, stroking her husband's hair, gently. "Be. Good."

"Fine, I'll be good. Like your father was to me. Real bag of saccharines, he was." Dylan says.

"I heard that!" His father in law, Carlos announces from the living room. "_Diablo!" _

Dylan grins. The truth is, he has one of the best relationships with his father-in law, a guy who's more like his dad than anyone else. They're good friends, too, and a good someone to baby-sit the triplets when he and Celia want to go out.

"Where are the trips anyway?" Dylan asks Celia.

"Lemon's coming back from her friend's house, she just rang." She says, referring to their youngest triplet, Teghan, whom everyone started to call 'Lemon' at a young age, because that was the first word she learnt. "Cody's at a party, and Lucas is in the garage teaching our newest member how to fix a carburettor." Celia responds, giving her husband a kiss. "And I'm gonna go out and get some stuff at the supermarkets, and meet Ada on the way back."

Dylan gives his wife an absent 'bye' and slinks into the garage. His eighteen year old son is sitting next to a very pretty girl with curly brown hair, and about twelve piercings in one ear. She's got a bandanna on, with stars and, when she turns around to raise a pierced eyebrow at him, he notices, when her shirt rides up, the skull tattoo on her stomach.

Luc gives his dad a grin, his blonde hair tousled, and his smile, wicked. "'Sup dad."

"Hey." Dylan says, suspiciously. Then he looks down at the girl. "Charlene, right?"

The girl nods.

"What you kids up to, then?"

Luc shrugs. "Carburetting." He says, with a smile that hints innuendos. Especially when Charlene snorts.

Dylan sighs. "There better not be any funkying going on her, yeah?"

Charlene and Luc smile at him. "'Course not dad." Luc says, innocently.

"Because if there is, I'm gonna have to...call your mom."

Luc looks scared for a minute. Then shakes his head. "Nothing, dad. Promise."

Dylan looks at Charlene, and crooks a finger at her. "Come here, Charlene. I think we need to have a little talk."

Charlene raises an eyebrow, but then complies, sauntering over, like some maestro. "Yeah?" She says.

"I think we need to go over some short rules, just to get you warmed up in the realm of things." Dylan says.

Charlene raises her other eyebrow, so that both are up and get lost in her fringe. "Don't do rules, sorry."

Dylan grits his teeth. "Well your gonna have to do them. Sorry."

Charlene puts her hands on her hips. "Nuh uh."

"Uh huh."

"Nope."

"Yeah."

"No."

"Yes!" Dylan says, exasperated. "Look Carly."

"It's Charlene."

Dylan raises an eyebrow. "Whatever. If you want to stay in this house, you gotta follow the rules."

"What if I don't like rules?"

"Well you're gonna have to get used to them." Dylan says, getting annoyed. "One-"

"Listen, old man. I don't follow rules. And if you think you're gonna get away with them, then I'll have to introduce you to my lovely little knife in the back drawer of my jeans." Charlene says, darkly.

Dylan just grins. "I've heard it all before, little girl. Hell, I was you once. But just remember, that this is my territory and over here, knife crime is a big no-no. So, either hand it over, or I'll kick you out, right now on your ass."

Charlene bares her teeth. "What If I don't want to?"

And then she turns away with a flick of her hair and storms back to the garage, leaving Dylan standing there, eyes wide, and wary.

"What happened?" A voice calls from behind. Carlos is walking towards him, old age completely lost on him. He looks as good as new.

"Charlene." Dylan hisses.

Carlos nods knowingly. "Another one. Guess we're gonna have to beat her, together."

Dylan nods, slowly, lips pursed.

"Game on."

**THE END!**


End file.
